


From Eden

by coeurastronaute



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, lexa is hawkgirl, not a bit of angst, the famous actress/nobody au, they meet in a bookshop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-02-01 05:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: Lexa is trying to change and grow, and she runs into a charming artist. She doesn't tell her she's an actress.





	1. The Bookstore

There are things that put one to sleep and things that keep them awake, despite all other intentions. The world is split into these things and nothing else. Even when tired and even when looking for reasons to wake, somethings just don’t work. It was the flopping of pages onto the floor that startled Lexa awake despite her deep and unending need for more, despite the battle of both categories raging in her head. That and the sun that she tried to burrow against into her pillows. That and the tingling numbness that shot through her arm as it moved around in her bed as she tried to adjust. The sounds of morning started to filter into her awareness as she rubbed her arm, hoping to get life enough back into it as it was accompanied by grumbles of protest and utter complaint.

Weary and sore, Lexa sat up in bed and pushed her hair around. The bed, though her own, felt foreign and new once more while at the same time holding the faintest feeling of something she remembered. Four months in a hotel in Nebraska had nothing on the view from her bed at home. A month before that bouncing around world promoting meant a host of beds that each took a familiarity away from this moment. Beach and sunshine were a wall here for her, and from her bed, Lexa tried to remember that this is where she was now, at least until she finished reading and chose the next location.

But she was in no hurry to do such things. Not when she had money in the bank, and for the moment, enough momentum to last the month for her career. She’d thrust herself into work to distract herself after Costia, and being home was as much torture as it was a relief.

She had her bed though, and she loved her bed. For now it was more than enough, though it was difficult to explain that to people who slept in their own bed every night and took it for granted.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Lexa was greeted as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes, still with an arm slightly worthless. “Didn’t expect to see you up so early.”

“Scripts, haunting me in my sleep.”

“Anything good?” Anya dared, sliding a cup of coffee towards the waking girl.

“You read them.”

“Yeah.”

“And.”

“I didn’t like any of them,” she shrugged. “Not for you. But we have time to pick. You can’t really work for the next few months. I’m surprised you read them.”

“I read.”

“Only what I tell you.”

“Yeah. Well. Couldn’t sleep.”

“I liked that one,” Bellamy turned around from the stove as he pushed food around in the pan. “The one with the painter. That biopic.”

“Because it films in London,” Lexa reminded him.

“What? Why would I be interested in that?”

“How could we get over the scenic vistas that were Nebraska?” Anya agreed.

“Just think about it. London. British beauties. Big Ben. Pubs. Pints.”

“It’s a smile-and-look-pretty part,” Lexa sighed. “I’m not too eager to slip into that category.”

“That one wasn’t bad,” Anya nodded into her mug as she flipped the page of the paper.

“Oh, how terrible. Make a few million looking pretty while spending a few months in London. What a terrible life.” Bellamy rolled his eyes and tossed his hands around, spatula flinging through the air. Lexa shared a grin with Anya as they watched the display. “It’s as if you’re not happy unless you’re being beaten or get to kill someone or something. You literally were covered in dirt for the past three months in the middle of nowhere. What’s so bad about a five-star hotel and a period piece in a beautiful city on the studio’s dime? Wasn’t Indra talking about how you need to be more normal anyway?”

“She did say she wanted you in box office fodder, next. And this is a good compromise,” Anya shrugged while Bellamy nodded, proud of himself.

“I’ll take you to London myself,” Lexa offered. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you to meet those models.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Since when do you read them anyway?” Anya held out her plate. “You never make it more than two pages in before you give up.”

“I haven’t seen him read anything since 9th grade,” Lexa agreed as they got breakfast.

“He had nothing to do in Nebraska.”

“He exhausted the ladies here.” Anya and Lexa shared a chuckle.

“I’m evolving,” the chef shrugged. “You guys are assholes.”

“I don’t know what you two are complaining about. You both abandoned me after two weeks,” Lexa shrugged, tucking into her food and eyeing them as her sister and best friend guiltily looked away. “Octavia was the only one who stayed, and she was the only one with a good reason to come back earlier. But she respected the idea; never leave a man behind.”

“I had to start pounding pavement,” Anya explained. “You think those scripts got read on accident? or those appearances or your schedule got put together by fairy magic?”

“Nebraska made me depressed,” Bellamy tried, with enough sense to look guilty. “Plus I had to drive Anya around and carry her stuff and watch the house.”

“Where is Octavia?” Lexa ignored them with a lighthearted shake of her head. She knew, deep down, she was no fun when she was working, and in a place like that, there were no other distractions to keep them distracted while she worked.

“Reuniting,” Bellamy answered, the pain evident in his face as his cheeks turned a bit green.

“Come on, I thought you were over that,” Anya grinned at his discomfort. “It’s been over a year.”

“You don’t get over your little sister dating a behemoth of a bartender,” the brother complained.

“Haven’t had that problem,” Anya nodded with a smile.

“Because your sister pulls more girls than the Beatles,” he complained. “She shows up and they just fall on her. And they leave in a nameless line of strangers, gone in the morning and anonymous by the afternoon.”

“That’s just heartbreak.”

“I’m not heartbroken,” Lexa sighed. It was a familiar conversation.

“You are.”

“I was,” she corrected. “But I’ve rebounded.”

“A few hundred times,” Bellamy grinned.

“Hyperbole isn’t endearing.”

“You have been in the quantity over quality mindset,” Anya realized. Lexa felt bad for a moment about it. She knew it gave her sister trouble and she burdened her with much of the actual responsibilities of her own career.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been clean for a month now, and I’m more than capable of finding quality. That’s what I want now.”

“Really?”

“Yes, is that hard to believe?”

“Costia was a lot.”

“She left. I’m over it.” Lexa looked at them both. “I’m over it, okay? No more randoms. I’m on the straight and narrow.”

“I’m just saying. It’s different when your sister is getting worked over by some asshole who pours shooters with his shirt half unbuttoned.”

“Did Indra call?” Lexa interrupted the inevitable banter that would erupt, hoping to deter them of diving deeper into her personal life. She knew there were differing opinions that she was sick of hearing. Literal angels and demons on her shoulders, the two of them were.

“Meeting at eleven. She says she has news and contracts. And she’ll want to know which of the scripts you liked.”

“I don’t have to go, do I?”

“Lex,” Anya tried.

“You go deal with her. Tell her we didn’t find anything we liked.” Bellamy gave her a look. “Except for that painter part.” Anya gave her a look. “What?” she popped a piece of fruit in her mouth. “I liked it well enough to take a second look.”

“She’s going to want to talk about sequels.”

“We can postpone.”

“The studio was nice enough to let you go do your festival fodder. They’re going to expect something-”

“Listen,” Lexa stood, moving around the counter towards the sulking man. “Take care of it. I have one mission today, and it is to distract Bell from the terrible, filthy things his sister is doing with Lincoln.”

“Lex! Come on,” he protested as he attempted to pull away. She grabbed his cheeks and held them out as an example of misery to her manager.

“I mean it. She’s probably going to be M.I.A. for the next few days. I can’t even imagine the things she’s-”

“Thanks.”

“I must impart some wisdom on this creature.”

“I do fine.”

“Lexa,” Anya tried again. She was serious. Stern and serious, and in Lexa’s professional opinion, so much smarter than herself. It only made sense to let her make the decisions.

“Tell Indra we talk sequels after Sundance.”

“They won’t wait.”

“We opened a month ago, and it was how good? Anyone? Bellamy?”

“Good enough to get us all shiny new toys in the driveway,” he relented.

“Exactly. A month. They expect more from the second highest grossing film that they hope to franchise.”

“Set it up. Take care of it. But find me something to be excited about between these things. When we get a script, we work. Got to keep my babies in their lifestyle.”

“You should come to Indra’s with me,” Anya stood. “She hasn’t seen you in a week. She gets antsy.”

“One lecture a day is enough,” Lexa finally let go of Bellamy. “We’re taking the day off.”

“You always take the day off.”

“And yet I just worked for ten months straight, including two movies and a press tour.”

“What do you want me to tell her?”

“Just give me time to promote this one. Then they can have me.”

“You should come. She’ll listen to you, and yell at me for not being able to control you.”

“What do you think?” Lexa asked Bellamy.

“Ditch day.”

“See? Look at this guy. He needs a day off.”

“He doesn’t work!” Anya argued. Lexa smiled at her victory for spinning her tires so early in the morning.

“I suppose you didn’t just have breakfast cooked for you?” Bellamy tried.

“Drinks tonight. You’ll report your good news. Tell me what to sign,” Lexa backed towards the hall to her room. “And we’ll head over to the party.”

“What party?” Anya looked at her.

“Oh you know…”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

“Lex.”

“He invited us,” her little sister shrugged innocently. “How can we refuse him?”

“He has great girls,” Bellamy tried.

“I hate that guy.”

“He loved you.”

“I’m not going.”

“Bell, get the car. We need to find some new reading material. Anya, you have to come. It’s business.”

“You two are going to drink too much and not listen to me.”

“Business as usual,” Bellamy amended with a grin.

* * *

There was rarely a rush in the store, so the excess amount of people filtering in and sitting outside was a little bit of a nuisance. But Clarke continued to empty her box of books and ignore them all intently. Just the start of her shift, and she elected to take up stock over the front. It was quiet in the back, and she had ten more hours of this until closing. She had to pace herself, and she was already exhausted after a restless night attempting to work.

“Wells, did we get anymore?” Clarke called from the back aisles.

“Yeah, six more in the back,” she heard.

“Of course,” she grumbled.

“Hey, I have someone with questions.”

“I’ll be in Language.”

With a quick lift, Clarke began to lug another box from the back room as she approached the aisle in particular. There was something beautiful about the autonomy of stacking books. She loved books. Loved their brick-like composition and the orderly system developed and tested over centuries to keep them in order despite the city or country or continent. She liked that normalcy. Some days she was even convinced that she’d stack books for free, though the paycheck did keep her in that life of luxury of her small studio overlooking not one, but two liquor stores and pawnshops.

“Excuse me, you work here right?”

“That I do,” Clarke nodded, sliding another book onto the shelf. “Way too much, and for way too little, but I do.”

“I need to find some books about painters, or paintings. Do they make books about paintings?”

“Painters or paintings?”

“Is there a difference?”

It made Clarke smile for a second, though that quickly faded when she turned to find who she was speaking with. Her mouth went dry and she wanted to look around but all she could see was that the tiny aisle with books about languages and Hawkgirl herself. She wished she hadn’t looked. That might have helped.

“There is,” Clarke nodded as the actress smiled. She wanted to not look like she was lost in the world, but she knew her face was startled. “You’re…”

“Looking for a book about painters, and possibly paintings,” Lexa offered conspiratorially with a grin.

“Right.”

“Can you help?”

“Yes, no, yeah, of course.”

“Good.”

“Can I ask…” Clarke set down the books, some falling to the ground as she awkwardly tried to not look like a disaster. Lexa watched her fumble until the clerk gave up and left the books on the ground. “I’ll get those later. Can I ask which painters or paintings you’re interested in?”

“Um, well, I’m curious about someone who isn’t really a painter. Do they make books about that?”

“They make books about anything. So they are…?”

“The subject of paintings.”

Through the aisles they wove. Clarke spent the time moving in circles, trying to find her focus instead of looking at this girl’s green eyes. She hadn’t expected them to be this green. She’d half sworn it was photoshopped. Lexa followed and pulled off her baseball cap when they were deep in the stacks and there were less and less customers. She was startled by the blue eyes and pretty face and fumbling. She was startled with how charming it was, and how much she noticed.

“You’re going to test me, huh?” Clarke tossed over her shoulder.

“I have the day off, I figure I should spend it harassing beautiful bookshop girls.” Lexa offered. “It took six shops to find someone pretty enough to meet the quota, and I almost left because your guy up front didn’t do it for me.”

“Don’t tell Wells. He hates when he’s not getting harassed for being pretty enough.” That was the second smile she earned from the actress, and Clarke blushed until she hid in the shelves, refusing to look at her again. She wanted to rip her own tongue out for speaking at all. “Now the books.”

“Do you know the painter… I think his name is Foster Webb?”

“I do, actually,” Clarke nodded, still afraid to look at the girl. Instead she began to pull books and hand them to the actress. “The painting, The Birch and the Woman, and all of the sketches. That woman.”

“Terese Zubiri.”

“You know her?”

“Not personally.”

“Right,” Lexa grinned as more books were stacked. She watched the bookshop girl stare intently at the spines of the books on the shelves, dancing her fingertips along them.

“I studied art history in college. Well, I started. I gave up on that.”

“Why?”

“To paint.”

“Of all the bookstores, I stumble into the perfect one. That’s a bit of fate, huh?”

“She’s an amazing subject. I hope it’s research for a role. Because this woman is astounding.”

“So you did recognize me, and you’re not usually that clumsy.”

“No, I am,” Clarke laughed, perusing again. “You’re actually on my list. My list, list.” Lexa smiled a little wider. “Fuck. I didn’t mean. I shouldn’t have said that. This isn’t helping.”

“If I knew your name, you’d be on my list.” It was charming and it was heavy, but Lexa tried the smirk and the girl ignored it, which was a good thing. It did nothing to make Lexa less interested in this opportunity she’d stumbled upon.

“Clarke.”

“That seems about right. I like when people’s names fit them.”

“These will get you started.”

“Oh, just some light reading then,” Lexa grinned, looking at the stack that had grown in her arms.

“You have the day off, don’t you?”

“I do,” the actress nodded. “Why don’t we just get out of here and enjoy it? Lunch? Coffee? I know an amazing deli just a few blocks over. Tastes like home.”

Clarke looked at the actress and felt her cheeks tense. Her lungs stopped. Lexa simply leaned against the shelves and looked earnestly, eagerly, coolly, calmly. It was even more unnerving that it came about so easily.

“Are you… asking me out?”

“Trying.” Clarke saw the smirk that time, and it was ferociously effective.

“I have to work,” she shook her head, as her lips smiled as well and then retreated at the realization of what was happening. “You have things to read.” Lexa watched her smile and watched her shake her head. She saw the speckles of paint on Clarke’s shirt and she liked it. In under ten minutes of interaction, and Lexa was intrigued and earnest.

“Is it the deli? We can go for pizza. The Polo Lounge?” Lexa followed as the blonde retreated, shaking her head, cheeks blushing and hidden. “We can have breakfast in Paris, if that’s your style? Lunch at the pyramids. Dinner in Hong Kong. You just have to say yes.”

“I can’t leave. I’m closing. Here til ten. Asiatic dinners just don’t fit in my schedule today.”

“I thought I was on your list.”

“Does this normally work for you?” Clarke stopped. Lexa nearly ran her down with the stack of books in her arms at the sudden halt. “The smile and the eyes and the lines?”

“Normally,” she nodded, puppy-dog face firmly planted.

“Never going to happen, Hawkgirl.”

“Why?”

“I’ve sworn off actors.”

“But I’m an actress.” Clarke gave her a look. “Plus, I’m not like the rest.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“I knew I should fire that publicist. What do I have to do?”

“Read your books.”

“Dinner then?” She had eyes that were forests, and Clarke swallowed and asked herself if she shouldn’t slip at least once more, because surely this would be worth it.

“Sworn them off, Hawkgirl.”

“Lexa, actually. Don’t want people to know about my alter-ego.”

“I should get back.”

“I should get to reading. Is right over there, okay?”

“You’re going to read, here?”

“You don’t get off til ten, and I have a huge stack of books. And about…” She checked her watch. “Ten hours to change your mind.”

“Sworn them off,” Clarke smiled and nodded, a half-hearted warning.

“Well, then at least my sister will be glad I spent the day out of trouble in a bookstore. Thank you for the help, Clarke.”

* * *

As much as she tried to look away, Clarke occasionally let her eyes wonder back to the girl camped out in the tiny aisle in the dim part of the bookshop. She stacked and stocked and helped others. Once or twice, she met the actress’ eyes, and earned a small smile and nod. More often, she was impressed that Lexa was deep into the books, brow furrowed and eyes racing across the page, fingers tracing images from big books spread out across her lap. It was endearing, and it wore her down as time passed. Notes filled napkins and what Clarke imagined was a script. She was diligent.

There were a few conversations, a few questions Lexa asked when Clarke was close enough, but it was strictly business and about the subject.

She would never admit it, but Lexa watched the stranger move around the shop when she could. Watched her smile and joke with regulars, watched her balance large volumes in her arms and step up on her tiptoes to reach the top shelves. She spent even more time coming up with questions and enjoying Clarke’s explanations.

It wasn’t until well after dark that Lexa slipped out. Clarke felt oddly sad, for just a moment, when she glimpsed and took a second glance to the empty corner before deciding that it was better that way.

When she looked back after a little while the actress was back and waving her over.

“Wells, I’m going to go pull some titles.”

“Alright.”

She was more self-conscious now, when she approached. Clarke tucked her hair behind her ears, fiddled with the sleeves of her shirt, slipped her hands in her back pockets and moseyed forward as if she were fighting the ocean current. As she approached, she couldn’t help but shake her head.

“You strike me as a brisket kind of girl,” Lexa looked up, holding a plate of food. “Figured since I’m here, and you’re here, and I bought you dinner, we are practically on a date.”

“You, me, and the store full of people.”

“Not brisket? I’ll trade you my pastrami,” the actress explained, pulling out more food and situating it around her, careful to avoid the books. She kept talking, persistent and charming. “And let me tell you, I don’t just trade away my favourite sandwich for anyone.”

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” Clarke asked, afraid to sit.

“What? I mean, I have to eat,” she shrugged.

“Lexa.”

“Clarke.”

“Don’t you have better places to eat than the back of a bookshop with a stranger?”

“I had one goal today, and it was to get one of my best friends laid.”

“How’d that go?”

“Mission accomplished before lunch. Meeting you was kind of a nice surprise.”

It was her eyes that did it, that made the last bit of resolve crumble. Clarke sighed and sat on the floor as Lexa grinned victoriously.

“Just because I’m hungry,” Clarke warned.

“I’ll take what I can get.”

“And I want your pickle.”

“No deal, Book Girl.”

* * *

The shop closed at ten. Lexa was due for drinks at eleven, but it was near midnight before either realized that time existed still in the world. Wells said his goodbyes and reminded Clarke to lock everything up when she left. Lexa’s phone died hours earlier, but she didn’t mind at all.

It started with the script and the painter. Lexa listened intently as Clarke explained, held up books wide across her chest and pointed at the reproductions in them, pulled out the archives from her days in university. Clarke listened to Lexa talk about how homesick she was for the east coast. And then it changed. It changed so that they were talking about mundane things like traffic and friends, and they were talking about theories of art and beauty. It didn’t much matter, but they were talking about everything they could.

“I loved her, or I thought I did,” Lexa shrugged. “You know how that is.”

“No,” Clarke shrugged. “I loved Finn. It just… Love changes. Have you ever read Anaïs Nin?” Clarke swallowed when Lexa shook her head and leaned on her knee, intent and riveted. “She said something like, love never dies a natural death. And I love that. I think it’s true. She said it dies because we don’t know how to replenish it. From blindness and betrayal and a whole bunch of things like that. I just mean. I think you can love many people.”

“You can love many people. But I believe in one, earth-shattering love, and anything up to that isn’t love. You might think it is, but it’s different.”

“Or maybe it’s just died its natural death.”

“I want it to be more.”

“But you thought you loved her. Or you did love her.”

“Yeah,” Lexa shrugged. “I thought something.”

“Yeah, me too,” Clarke smiled softly. “But fuck'em.”

“I mean, it led me here, to an empty bookshop after midnight with a beautiful girl.”

“See, you’re sweet and kind and charming, and then you whip stuff like that out and I know you’re no good.”

“I’m good,” Lexa sat up, mock-wounded. “I’ve been on my best behaviour!”

“You have.”

“Not a bad first date, huh?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“It was kind of a date,” Lexa grinned and prodded.

“It wasn’t a date.”

“I bought you dinner. We had riveting conversation. I think I know a date when I see it.”

“It was work.”

“I’m not so bad.”

“It was a fun shift.”

“I’ll take it,” Lexa smiled, standing and extending her arm to Clarke to lift her up. “I should get you home though.”

“I can get home.”

“I know, but that wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me to end our date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Tomato, potato.”

* * *

It took only two days for Lexa to find her way back to the bookshop after her near kiss at Clarke’s door. Hat tucked tightly over her head, she slipped in and wondered the aisles until the blonde appeared. For just a moment, Lexa watched her, noticed the paint on her forearm and neck, heard her laugh and yell to her partner.

Quietly, Lexa grabbed a few books and stood in line to pay. She hadn’t planned exactly what to do. It took all of her energy to get away from her friends, especially after ditching the party the other night.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for such a reader.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“You’re not camping out again, are you?” Clarke asked.

“Unfortunately, I am being dragged into a meeting. I just wanted to thank you, for all of your help.”

“And you had to buy some Nin?”

“I’ve been mulling.” It was her smile that was disarming. Clarke swallowed and blushed and Lexa saw it all. “And it was a good excuse to stop by. See if you might reconsider your no actors policy. I’m not so bad. Not even that good of an actor. Plus,” Lexa leaned forward, conspiratorial and grinning. “I’m on your list.”

“I’ve updated it. You didn’t make the cut.”

“There has to be something said about my persistence.”

“It’s just the chase. You’ll get bored if I say yes.”

“Why not try it out and see? I bet you a second date that’s not true.”

“You’re dangerous,” Clarke shook her head and ran the card she was handed after ringing up the books.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bother you,” Lexa realized, standing up slightly from the counter. “I’m not usually so persistent, honestly. Actually…” she realized, “I’m usually pretty solitary and never do this. I just…”

“Were bored.”

“No, no, not at all. I just. I don’t know. I’d like to get to know you.”

They were quiet as Clarke stacked the books on the counter. She pulled the pen from her ear and wrote her number on a bookmark and slipped into the jacket of one of the books in the stack before putting them in a bag. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the earnestness, or the worry, or just the bashful way she smiled.

“You should have led with that or something.”

“The chase was a little fun.”

“I told you!”

“Something tells me you’re not that boring, so I’m not too worried.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”


	2. Chapter 2

She should have called already. What were the proper terms to these things? Lexa paced across the floor of her bedroom with her phone clutched in her hand, tapping against her forehead. She tried to call so many times she’d memorized the number, but every time she went to dial something came up, manufactured or otherwise, until now she was left, deep into the night with no more excuses and two days worth of apologies to make up for if she could.

There was a lot of things she had to finish. There were meetings she was actually dragged to with Anya, contracts to be signed, places to be, people to see. She should have just texted, she berated herself as she turned and strutted quickly to the other side of the room, twisting at her hips and stretching in the awkward way that people do to crack their back until she paused at the end of her epoch. Now it felt too late to text. Because if she texted now it would seem as if she should have just done it earlier and was just not getting around to it and then she’d look like it was all about the chase and that certainly wasn’t it.

With a decided turn, Lexa walked towards the opposite wall again.

There were firecrackers tied to her nerves and her muscles were a new kind of jittery. Like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. It was stupid to call this girl she met. It was ridiculous to be distracted by her blush and smile and eyes and not be able to stop thinking about the way she grinned or grew intently more passionate on certain subjects. But here Lexa found herself, oddly afraid of the premise of quality over quantity. Quantity was easy. Quality was petrifying.

But there was something about this clumsy, clever, cute stranger, and it was important.

For a moment, Lexa stalled in the middle of the room before standing rigidly and staring at her phone once more. She nodded to herself and pushed the green button. By the first ring she was already pacing again, losing the steely resolve she’d somehow summoned for the instant to push that button.

It took three rings, but Clarke answered just as Lexa had convinced herself to hang up and throw her phone. The breathless, ‘hello,’ made her freeze.

“Hi. Hello. Hey,” Lexa stumbled.

“Hi. Who is this?”

“Oh, right, yeah. Sorry. This is Lexa.”

“Lexa,” the line was quiet. “I think you have the wrong number.”

“You gave me this number on a bookmark. God, I hope she gave me the right number.” Lexa ran her free hand against the back of her neck, tugging it sorely as she paused.

“Lexa!” Clarke realized loudly. “Hawkgirl.”

“Yes. That Lexa.”

“I thought you’d never call.”

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, I wasn’t waiting.” It was her chuckle that made Lexa smile and her own cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I chalked it up to a fluke. Or a busy schedule. I suppose you probably have a pretty busy time.”

“I do,” Lexa nodded, meandering around the room. “But that’s no excuse. Truth is I was just plain nervous. You’re a little intimidating.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?” Clarke scoffed. “Do tell.”

“I can’t explain it. Just… you. I’ve been looking forward to talking to you. But terrified because I haven’t looked forward to something like this in a while.”

The pause made Lexa pause as her eyes searched her room without seeing anything at all.

“You’re kind of sweet when you’re not all bravado.”

“So you do remember me then?” Lexa grinned.

“How could I forget the sit-in at the store?”

“I’ve been told I’m quite forgettable.”

“I highly doubt that.”

It was easy to talk, and the banter came so naturally that Lexa barely noticed that she wasn’t pacing so much as fluttering around her room now, touching things absently, kicking at clothes on the floor, smiling widely. But the quiet that came as it slowed made her self-conscious again, made her detest this once more, remembering all the fears that came through her head before she hit dial. So she cleared her throat and began to pace once more.

“How are you?” she tried after clearing her throat.

“Good, good. Just working on a painting. I haven’t had time in a few days and I want to finish it up.”

“You’ve been pretty busy too, huh?”

“Nothing special. Just life sometimes gets in the way, you know.”

“Oh yeah.”

Still and no longer moving around, no longer allowing her brain to function on autopilot by moving around, Lexa felt her eyes open wider as she listened to Clarke clear her throat on the other end.

“Are you busy right now?” the voice was quieter than before, and Lexa breathed when she heard it, as if she’d been holding a breath for no reason at all.

“Not a bit.”

“Can you tell me if you’re going to take the part?”

“Which part?”

“The muse. The painter.”

“I think I have to. It was a bit of fate, actually. You’re not going to tell anyone are you?”

“Who would I tell?”

“I don’t know anything about you, Clarke.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Good point.”

“Why is it fate?”

“What?”

“You said it was a bit of fate.”

“It lead to me asking you out. That has to count for something.”

“You haven’t asked me out yet.”

“I’m getting there.”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I signed on earlier today. We film in the summer. Which is the second bit of fate since I have a sequel to film next month apparently.”

“You just found out?”

“I don’t check my email.”

“Evidently.”

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?”

There was quiet now. The easy conversation grew stiff and Lexa sat up as soon as the words were out of her mouth and her feet were moving just as soon.

“I guess I should have expected that, but I didn’t.”

“At least we have the first date out of the way.”

“That wasn’t a date.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“For our first date.”

“Well.”

* * *

There is a magic to movie theatres. The dark, the anonymity, the joint experience, the loneliness. The world outside does not exist. Out there, out there, as opposed to in here, out there is where speeding traps and cocky cops, and overdue bills and childhood illnesses and poisonous reptiles lived. Out there, out there was where the world kept honking cars and gridlock, congressional campaign commercials, unsolvable crossword puzzles, parents and friends and work and those catchy radio songs that appear once every six years like clockwork.

In the theatre there was none of this. There was that moment of slipping out of your own skin as the lights went down and paradoxically, both as an individual and as a collective with each of the congregation in the cinema, slipping into someone else’s. Shirking away the dirt and grime of the small corner of the world one inhabits and taking up another. It was absolute witchcraft and it lasted just long enough to inspire hope, to bring tears, to fill with joy, to get the gears turning. It was absolutely magic.

When she was six she saw her first movie. Lexa didn’t remember what it was, but she remembered sitting on the edge of her chair for two hours and not being able to sleep that night. She wasn’t sure when she decided she wanted to be in them, but she told her father that she wanted her job to be someone who watches movies all day in a theatre. It was the in the theatre part that was important.

It was a new experience to be at the movies with someone that made her lungs feel like they were full of swooning crickets at dusk. She got her first job at 15, dropped out of high school promptly, and her life was never normal, never followed a normal timeline. It all changed, changed everyone’s life. Her sister wrapped up her degree and took over helping, her father grew disappointed, and her dating life included only people she came in contact with. She’d been on dates with Costia, went out to dinner and such. But they jumped right into the start. This was different.

The midnight showing of the Oldies theatre was not especially busy. Lexa knew this from experience, when she could sneak away, she came here. The owner was nice and kept quiet. The girl at the counter who sold them candy smiled through the pained expression of an uncomfortable ex who was never an ex. Lexa looked away as quickly as she could.

Dinner went well. Or at least Lexa thought it did. She made Clarke laugh, and her date blushed ferociously when she dropped her keys and phone a few times getting into the car. They talked about art and music and things, just things, boring first date things that weren’t so boring to those on the date because they’re nervous and excited and entranced by the other.

Clarke didn’t even seem to mind that it was at a food truck in a neighbourhood with double lettered names, or that it was the most random assortment of food imaginable, but they shared on a paint-pealing table under a tree that had seen better days and Lexa was smitten as hell. Lexa felt very alive and as if the entire night had been in a theatre. Like being near Clarke was the same as that magic she fell in love with so early in her life.

By the time the movie was over, Lexa became intimately aware of the way Clarke shifted closer. It took the first half of the movie for her to work up the courage to hold her hand, but when she did it took the next twenty minutes to calm down and enjoy it. Clarke smiled and settled back in to watch the movie, while Lexa found herself unable to concentrate any longer.

She still had Clarke’s hand when they made it out to the front of the movies. Still had it when they walked to the parking lot, felt her hand be pulled and squeezed slightly at times.

“I liked it. I’d never see it before,” Clarke offered as they walked down the near empty street.

“You don’t mind sneaking around to late shows?”

“Do you think I have any misconception about who you are?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re right. But do you think I don’t know what it all means?”

“The movie wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen things. I just. You should know that I’m not all that. I’m just a girl who is terrible at math and work makes me travel a lot and who gets nervous when it comes to holding your hand.”

“Not a bad first date,” Clarke nodded.

“Second date,” Lexa corrected, bashful and looking away after her bout of honesty.

They meandered around the spot beside the car, suddenly aware that they had to talk and the night was coming to an end. Lexa hadn’t thought of all of this when she was thinking about what to do. She hadn’t thought she’d get as far as the end of a date.

“We should do it again,” Clarke decided, nodding to herself as Lexa leaned against the car. The parking lot was lit orange and nocturnally stagnant. Clarke watched her eyes dilate and lips curl up ever so slightly at the suggestion.

“Maybe something a little more exciting.”

“You’re plenty exciting.”

She wasn’t sure how it happened, how Clarke somehow got closer. Lexa found herself sandwiched between the blonde and her car and she found herself oddly content with her place in the world.

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?”

“That’s quite forward of you, Griffin.”

“I can be brazen too. It’s not just reserved for the famous, eccentric actor-types.”

“Brazen.”

“You are. I can be a little.”

“I don’t know about-”

Clarke kissed her. Kissed her right there as she was about to speak. It was not quick and it was not needy, but it came and it made Lexa stop talking. It made her stop thinking. It started with fingertips at the vase of her neck and it continued through hair and over her shoulders and until Clarke was running her thumb along Lexa’s cheek. It was her smile that broke it, that stopped the slow dragging seconds that languidly moved through their lips. Clarke couldn’t keep it up any longer without being overflowing with just this feeling of warmth and a giddy kind of surprise at herself.

Lexa felt her sigh when she pulled away slightly. She hadn’t expected it and caught herself actually fretting over the end of the night kiss at the door. Had her brain worked, she would have thought about the relief that came at it being over, but all she could worry about was the thought of getting more.

“You are brazen.”

“Someone has to be.”

There was a blush that crept up through Lexa’s cheeks as she smiled and looked down. Clarke felt it in her palms before letting her hands fall to Lexa’s neck. She felt hands on her hips, well north of polite and respectful.

“You’ve just been dying to kiss me since I showed up in your store,” Lexa grinned, regaining composure.

“No.”

“You have. You’re lying.”

“Not a bit.”

“Been all you could think about.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Just admit it.”

“Arrogant.”

“I see through your wiles.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Wish a small smile, Clarke closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Lexa, leaning fully against her and hugging her tightly, forehead finding a spot beneath her jaw. Lexa squeezed her, wrapped her arms there and smiled as she adjusted her own neck to allow for the girl in her arms. She couldn’t remember the last time she was simply hugged just because someone wanted to do it and initiated it. It felt more intimate than most other moments and she found herself oddly unsure of what to do.

With a heavy sigh she closed her eyes and simply stood there in the parking lot, satisfied and alive.

* * *

“I need more than that,” Raven complained, following like an eager puppy as Clarke reshelved books.

“We had fun. It was a good date,” her friend shrugged with that curious half-smile that meant there was more.

Clarke felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. An entire week of texting after the fourth date proved to be an interesting way to get to know Lexa. It’d been a week of Lexa back at work, and a week of pictures, funny stories, rants and attempts to find a hole in both schedules to hang out again. Clarke was just happy and smitten and trying to hide how much of a crush it was and how often she enjoyed talking to the girl on the other end.

“You’ve been on a few and you won’t tell me anything about her.”

“It’s new.”

“Tell me something about her. What’s her name?”

“Listen, can I just have this for now and when it gets serious you’ll be the first to know.”

“You’re killing me here.”

“I thought you were getting us lunch.”

“I was going to ransom it for information, but it seems like a waste.”

With a bit more cajoling and attempts at barter, Raven eventually took Clarke’s order before departing to the shop a few blocks down with promises to return. As soon as the bell dinged signalling her departure, Clarke fumbled with her phone.

 _Spoilers_ , Lexa typed with a picture attached. Clarke grinned at the sight on the screen. _How much does the costume do it for you. Don’t lie._

 _The only reason I’m sticking around_ , Clarke offered.

_Are you free tonight? I should be done around midnight._

_Putting the last touches on the show at the Gallery._

_You know, I never got my invite._

For a moment, Clarke paused before even attempting a response. She didn’t parse her words with Lexa, she didn’t monitor herself and she found it easy to be honest and true and so when it came time to think about the implications of what an invitation might mean, she was surprised at how nervous it made her.

_I figured you’d be busy, or we wouldn’t be… doing this… still._

_Jokes on you, chump. I’m sticking around. Too late now._

Oddly aware of the smile that came to her lips, Clarke looked around, as if someone would catch her being happy.

_I didn’t think you’d want to appear out in public like that._

_I’d get on a bus in my costume right now if I thought you’d be okay with it._

_This is new._

_I get it._

_Tomorrow at nine. The Colony on Queen._


	3. Chapter 3

The bed was smaller than the one back in her own room, but Lexa was coming around to being quite taken with this new bed in her life. It smelled like vanilla. Like lavender and this kind of homey feeling. Like laundry and like wind. The pillow cases didn’t match, and the sheets were different too. It was colorful, all different patterns , and very much different than Lexa’s all white room.

It sat in a far corner, tucked as far back in the small studio as it could be, in a part of town Lexa never saw before meeting this stranger in a bookshop who had a permanent layer of paint on her hands and tucked behind her ear. It was cold in that corner, with the air conditioning unit pouring in right above the bed, but that made it cozier. And as it clicked on once more, Lexa woke, slowly at first, and then fighting it before stretching and giving in fully.

The sheets were soft and warm, that worn kind of comfortable that slipped along skin and felt as if they’d known many nights of sleep. Lexa enjoyed the feeling of the faded, mismatched sheets, the way they were used and felt like home, unlike her own. She’d never thought to notice such a thing until she was in this bed, with this girl, in this corner of the small apartment separated from the rest of the world by a curtain and a bookshelf.

Soundly, without noticing anything else at all, Clarke slept on beside her. Lexa smiled at the thought of the night before and the fact that she was still in Clarke’s bed. It was worth blowing off that dinner Anya planned with some schmuck. It was worth the verbal tarring she’d get later. The past month of dates and getting to know Clarke made it worth it. This moment. This was a victory.

She’d wanted to take Clarke home the first night, but she refrained when she was invited up for a nightcap. And the next time, she made herself so nervous, that when the moment came, she choked. There was the time they were making out in the car and it got nearly out of control, but Clarke had to be up early for work. And then the stars aligned. For just a moment, Lexa didn’t think about how hectic the rest of her schedule was, and she didn’t think about tomorrow. She had this morning. She ended up here at least twice a week for the past few weeks, and it was all that she needed to feel better.

The clock told her she still had a maybe an hour before she had to be into work. It did not take much, not even any effort, not even any consideration, no thought, it happened so mechanically, but Lexa slipped her arm around Clarke’s naked skin, felt the warmth of her body and the sheets. The sleeping girl hummed, deep in her chest at the new addition of warmth.

There was a spot Lexa loved, already. It was in the crook of her shoulder bone, tucked beneath messy, sleepy hair which she nudged aside with her nose before kissing with a smile. She earned protests and a burrowing girl in her arms. Two things were certain. Lexa was terrible at staying up late and Clarke was terrible at waking, which they were learning meant for interesting mornings and evenings.

“I have to head into work soon,” Lexa whispered. The sun was not even thinking about coming up yet, and Clarke knew, without looking at the clock, that it’d only been a few hours since they fell asleep.

“No.”

“But I do,” Lexa chuckled as Clarke turned slightly towards her in the dim light cast from outside the window.

“No.” Clarke never opened her eyes but slid her body closer to Lexa’s, rubbing her legs along the other’s, pushing her skin against hers.

“Clarke.”

“The alarm hasn’t-”

A menacing beeping began as soon as the words were nearly out of her mouth. She swatted behind her until it stopped. Snoozed or off completely, she was uncertain, but it didn’t matter. She wanted to stop time entirely.

It took too much effort to get this girl in her bed more often, so when it happened, Clarke was greedy. At two nights a week it was more than she was accustomed to with anyone else, and it felt good, and it was addictive. All things that made her worry, and all things she ignored until Lexa left.

“Do you want to come over to my place tonight?”

“Your place huh?” Clarke hummed into Lexa’s neck. Her eyes were steeled shut and her nose rubbed vigorously against the soft spot of skin under her jaw, inhaling the smell of her sheets and this morning.

“Yeah, well.”

“That’d be two nights in a row.”

“So.”

“That’s a bit forward of you.”

“Too much?”

“No, no,” Clarke sat back slightly. “Just surprised.”

“Figured we should have a talk about all of this.”

“Talk or… Talk?” Hips pressed into her own hips and Lexa gulped slightly as fingertips ran up her spine. There was a purr laced in a groan at the torture.

“Both. I mean. Talk. I wanted to talk to you today, but… well.”

“The first talk is usually trouble.”

“Nothing bad.”

“Remember that thing I did to you last night?”

“Which thing?” Lexa swallowed. There weren’t words. But Clarke’s lips were near Lexa’s ear. Her hands dug into flesh and her hips pushed harder. Scalding hot were lips on her neck. Nails skated along the frozen lake of her back. “Mmm, that thing.”

“Do we have to talk?”

“You should come over tonight.”

“To talk?”

“I’ll feed you too.”

“You’re going to regret this offer,” Clarke smiled, kissing her collarbone and settling in once more as the clock beeped again.

“Walking into that bookshop was the best decision I ever made.”

“A whole month ago.”

“We’re practically ancient.”

“You getting sick of me already?”

“I didn’t want to say anything. Ooof-” a pinch landed under her rib.

“Go back to sleep.”

“I have to go to work.”

“Tonight.”

“Yeah.”

It was a battle to peel the half-asleep girl from her body when the clock beeped again ten minutes later. But Lexa managed. She slipped on her clothes from the night before and grabbed a banana from the counter on her way out before sneaking one last look at the bed. Already, a messy blonde stock of hair was on her side. Or what was becoming her side. Or what had become her adopted pillow. Lexa furrowed at the thought and left before thinking of it any longer.

* * *

“It’s not so bad,” Anya tried, still pouring over the pages covering the table. She winced slightly as she flipped another page and tried to lie. 

“It’s bad,” Lexa sighed, pacing across the living room. “I thought you were keeping a handle on this.” 

“I have. A few months worth of calling in all the favours I don’t even have. What can you expect?” 

“More.” 

“Lex.” 

“We are just starting this… this… this thing,” Lexa’s hand stayed in mid air, rigid with her frustration. She felt the anger clawing up her back like a cat in curtains, wringing the tendons and muscles like rags, winding her tighter and remaining firmly below every movement. “And it’s hard enough without this.” 

“This is your life. What did you honestly think would happen?” 

“I thought you’d be able to control it.” 

“I can’t control this story,” Anya shook her head with a cool smile. It just infuriated her sister more. The calmness, the levelheadedness, the amusement at the suggestion. She watched her little sister pace once more after a grumble. “It’s never been a problem before.” 

“She’s not like the other ones. I care… about. Her. I care about… this.” It was like pulling teeth and Lexa felt dizzy almost from the effort and the seven hundredth lap around the living room. She caught sight of the pictures on the front of the magazines and felt her stomach flip. 

“What does Clarke think? I hardly imagine her as the kind who is intimidated by something like this.” 

“I haven’t talked to her.”

“You haven’t? Seriously?” 

“Dammit,” Lexa ran her hands over her face and fell onto the couch. She shook her head in the safety of her palms and huffed before rooting them in her hair and tugging, exasperated and exhausted. “What do I say? ‘Hey, sorry, don’t know if you checked the rags lately but you may be on a few’?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Anya flipped through another, skimming the words in the magazine. “You got two months with her before they figured it out. That’s pretty damn impressive.”

“Thanks.” 

“I mean it. You’ve had two great months, and so what? Now you don’t have to sneak. It’ll be different, but not terrible.”

“I needed more time.” 

“For what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Lex.”

“To make her stick around, okay?” she admitted sheepishly. “I needed more time to show her who I was. I don’t know. To figure out who I was. I was figuring it out. I’ve been. Trying.” 

Her eyes were cold and gone as they focused on a spot on the ceiling. Anya stalled, froze, watched her sister shake her head and try to read the future in the sky. 

It broke her heart sometimes, to watch Lexa struggle. It wasn’t a momentary struggle, it wasn’t a small, normal, easy kind of growth. Every inch was hard earned, hard fought, hard held, and Anya knew it. She remembered Lexa the day before it happened. She remembered that they played a short game of basketball in the driveway after dinner. And she remembered the moment she sprinted into the hospital room and sat beside her bed and waited for her to wake up to tell her their parents didn’t. The Lexa that woke up was not the same as the one from the driveway, and ever since she watched her attempt to navigate something. It was rarely smooth and rarely done in an efficient manner, but still. It was something. 

Lexa crossed her legs on the arm of the couch. Anya watched her refuse to look at her. To say that Clarke hadn’t been a good influence would be a lie. To say that Lexa wasn’t doing better in every aspect of her life would be a lie as well. In the past few months, Anya noticed a good bit of different things, and the one she was most hopeful about was the rare return of the little kid in the driveway. 

“You have to call her.” 

“She’s not ready for all that.” 

“Who ever is?” Anya tossed the magazine on the pile and grabbed her coffee before moving towards the couch. Lexa lifted her head before placing it in her lap as she sat down. “She’s a pretty smart girl, from what I can tell. I might know more if you brought her around more.” 

“Seriously.” 

“I’m just saying.” Gently she ran her hand along her sister’s hair. Lexa held up another magazine and looked at the picture of her and her girlfriend holding hands on the sidewalk. 

“I told her what it would be like. A few months ago. The first time she came over. She said,” Lexa smiled as she remembered. “I thought you were going to feed me, not tell me boring things.” 

“Romantic.” 

“It was. In a very weird way.” 

“You are different.” 

“Yeah. I know. It’s not her, you know. It’s just. I’ve been trying. Because if I’m not better I can’t be with her.” 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“I do,” Lexa nodded, her eyes were sure. “I’m not ready for her yet. Not totally. And I want to be.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“I’m not sure. But I want to figure it out before she does,” she chuckled. 

“You’re different,” Anya promised. 

“I have to call her. I should have called, to check on her.” 

“It’s early. She probably hasn’t seen anything yet.” 

“I should go over there then.” 

“That might be better.” 

“I’m sorry I got a little… you know.” 

“You’re just stressed, and that’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I really did just want to go buy some books and then somehow we got here. It’s new and it’s good. That’s all I know, and I’m going with it.” 

Anya couldn’t help but chuckle at the simplification of the past few months. She rested her hand in her sister’s hair and saw her smile.

* * *

The stacks were quiet. Clarke appreciated that, still craved the dull roar of noise just a few aisles away while being removed from it entirely. It wasn’t quiet often anymore, not after the pictures. She wanted to complain, but she thought they looked kind of cute together, so she tried not to let it bother her. It wasn’t the pictures, it was the after that was hard. It was the people showing up at her work waiting to see her girlfriend. It was the pictures that came after. 

But the stacks were quiet for now, and Clarke was happy with that. She could go out with Lexa now, and not worry. It was out there, it existed, and she spent a great deal of time convincing herself not to have a heart attack about those facts, and most times she was successful. It was overwhelming but worth it. That is what she decided to call it. That was how she managed it. 

It was because Lexa showed up at her apartment, soaking wet and shivering and blurting out apologies. That made it easy. It was because the actress rattled off a list of reasons why Clarke should stick around and give her a chance and not get spooked by it all. That helped. It was the general feeling of spending time with someone she enjoyed so much she almost craved them when they were gone. That was it. It was this new thing that happened on accident and at the end of the day it was a girl who ate junk food from trucks and liked to watch Clarke paint. 

The past few months swirled all together in her head when she thought about it too much, when she thought about what her life had somehow become because some stranger refused to leave the store. With a small smile, Clarke turned toward the aisle as she stacked and remembered. 

That moment felt very long ago, indeed. 

With a sigh she returned to the large stack of unpurchased books which ended up at the counter and had to be replaced. She was in no hurry. With her girlfriend out of town for a week shooting on location and her friends preoccupied with their own schedules, Clarke had no plans and an empty canvas, which was daunting, to say the least, and something she oddly dreaded. Stacking in the shelves was a good distraction; it allowed for the working out of things and the like. 

“Hey.” The voice startled her as she debated the imagery she wanted to start. “You have any books on painters?” 

“What are you doing here?” Clarke grinned, nearly dropping the rest of the stack in her arms before Lexa swooped in to help. 

“Caught the shuttle back. Thought I’d surprise you-” Arms were around her neck, strangling any other explanation. 

“You missed me,” Clarke whispered into her neck. 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“Shut it.” 

“Make me.”

* * *

“No no, it gets worse, we had to shut down because of what the harness did to him,” Lexa grinned as the rest of her table laughed. “We almost had to claim his junk on an insurance form.”

“It was the worst pain,” Murphy shook his head, still traumatized. 

The bustle of the restaurant didn’t even notice the group in the back corner and the way they laughed and spoke over each other to tell the stories they were almost all there to witness. 

It was a good dinner, and it was even better wine. Clarke hoped that last part would make it easier to focus, but it did nothing of the kind. She wanted to send Lexa stag to her unofficial wrap dinner with friends and a few other actors. She wanted to come down with some whooping cough and possibly the measels, but she got those eyes and that look from Lexa, and when she agreed to go she got a huge hug and a million thank-you’s, and so she drank the good wine and tried to be alright with what waited outside. 

The table itself was nice and polite. Lexa’s coworkers were sweet, and the actress herself was more than doting. The way she described Clarke’s art made the artist herself blush and surprised she was able to say so much, so passionately. The way Lexa looked back at her, to make sure she was laughing, the way she stole a kiss, all of it made Clarke feel more a part of her life, and it was good. 

“So, drinks then?” Gus asked as he tossed his napkin on the table. “I was thinking dances all around for the gents. Liquor for the ladies.” 

“I told you he was the bad influence,” Lexa grinned at her girlfriend. 

“I have to work in the morning, so I think this is my last stop,” Clarke explained. 

“You have to go,” Echo shook her head in disbelief. “It’s going to be fun. Plus, how many other girls would kill to be in your spot.” 

“There’s no way you’re going to want to miss it,” Murphy nodded solemnly. 

“I’m sure. I just can’t be late tomorrow, and something tells me you will be up til I’m heading in.” 

“Hopefully,” Gus laughed, big and boisterous and deep. 

“I will see you guys next week,” Lexa offered to a chorus of complaints. 

“No no,” Clarke smiled. “Just get her home in one piece, please. Go have fun with your friends. Go celebrate. You deserve it.” 

“Listen to this one,” Echo waved her hands. “She’s a keeper.” 

“I mean it,” Clarke leaned a little closer to Lexa who looked torn or as if she were in the middle of the SAT. “Go have fun.”

“See, I told you,” Lexa boasted after kissing her girlfriend’s cheek. “The greatest.” 

The table stood and began the act of getting out the door, weaving through the rest of the restaurant. 

“Are you sure?” Lexa whispered, holding Clarke’s hips as she followed through the room. 

“I’m exhausted,” Clarke confessed. “I can’t keep up with you. But you can stop by if you can’t make it home.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Oh yeah.” 

“Are you ready for this?” Lexa sighed as they made their way to the door. They heard the jostling kind of noise as it opened and part of the group left. Flashes came and blinded them before it closed again. 

“It’s not so bad,” Clarke lied as the door opened and the were swept up in the rush of it.

* * *

“Oh Lex,” Clarke whispered, grinning as she scrolled on the computer. 

“And you picked coming to work over that?” Wells chuckled over her shoulder. “What an idiot.” 

“I want things to stay normal. I’m forcing myself to stay normal,” the clerk nodded, her resolve fading. 

The images on the screen weren’t terrible, but they sure as hell told a story. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the images were… something. They might not have been so damning if not for the images from her and Lexa at dinner just a few hours before juxtaposed to those of Lexa out with her friends, but it looked like something that it wasn’t. 

“Your girlfriend got a lap dance,” Wells pointed out. “I think the fact that you’re dating Hawkgirl throws normal out the window.” 

“Alright,” Clarke exited the screen quickly and stood back. “No it doesn’t. Normal. That’s what we are.” 

“Okay,” he sassed.

* * *

The apartment was almost quiet as Lexa stood outside of Clarke’s door. She heard the dull melody of some song that’d be playing from the mismatched speakers Clarke wired throughout the studio. 

For one final moment of building up some courage, Lexa juggled her peace offering in her hands and took a deep breath before knocking. 

“I brought cupcakes,” Lexa grinned. “And a new brush.” One singular paint brush jutted out towards Clarke as she opened the door. 

“Lexa…” She sighed and leaned against it. 

“Just wanted to surprise you with something.” 

“You feel guilty. I told you not to feel guilty.” 

“But I’m still sorry.” 

“I told you to go out. I told you to have fun. You behaved yourself. You called me at like four to let me know you got home. Why do you feel guilty?” 

“For…” Lexa paused and furrowed, fidgeting slightly. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to see you in that position, and I’m sorry.” 

“Get in here,” Clarke pulled the door a bit more to allow her inside. “I told you, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I got you this brush though. The guy said it was a good one.” 

“It’s nice,” Clarke promised, smiling slightly as she weighed it in her hand. “It’s sweet.” 

“I’m not used to this,” Lexa shrugged, still clutching the cupcakes and walking around the apartment. She rooted her free hand in her hair and tugged, the axiety of the day finally appearing. “To having someone to answer to.”

“I’m not asking you to answer to me-”

“I’m not used to having to think about anyone else, and it was too late for me to consider how it might look or make you look, or make you feel, and I feel bad about that.” 

“I don’t care that-”

“But I care because I hate what it looked like, and I hate that there were pictures that could make you think I want anyone else but you.” 

The apartment was quiet as the song ended and the next one refused to start. Lexa felt her breath huff slightly as her shoulders hunched with the explanation. The artist merely stared at her and waited for her to finish because it looked like an awfully big burden to unleash, and Lexa needed the time. 

“You don’t have to answer to me,” Clarke promised, setting her brush on the counter by her canvas. “I genuinely don’t care that you went out with your friends. I’m not a fan of going out all the time, and I know this is going to happen because I won’t stop you. Stop thinking I’m made of glass and not confident in this. You sat in a bookshop for twelve hours.” 

“I’m still sorry,” Lexa relented. 

“If you wanted a lap dance, all you had to do was ask, you know.” 

“Wait. What?” the actress looked up and forgot what she’d been worried about at all. 

“I mean, I don’t mind, but still,” Clarke shrugged and took a step towards her. “I just want to be a normal couple.” 

“I hadn’t thought-”

“Maybe next time.” 

Lexa gulped.


	4. Chapter 4

The yawn echoed in the quiet of the bedroom. Lexa patted her cheeks to make herself wake up a little more, grateful that she was going to have a long weekend of making up for her rigorous schedule the past two weeks. Though it was the lull between shooting, it was actually just the time for the release to start gearing up, taking her away from home for a bit of marketing. 

She never minded, but something about sitting on her own bed and feeling the sheets and feeling at home, in her home, it was different and it felt good, for the first time in a long time. And she had plans for the evening, but she was tired, and it showed, though she hid it well when tie bathroom door finally opened. 

“You look…” Lexa’s eyes roamed without any sort of attempt to stop at all. She was incapable of doing anything other than look, as evident by her lack of words and ability to multi-task. She’d blame it on her exhaustion, but the real culprit was the blonde’s legs. 

It wasn’t that she wasn’t continually baffled by Clarke, but more that she hadn’t seen her so… so… jaw-droppingly stunning, on purpose. If asked, Lexa would picture the moment she knew she was a goner, when she was lazing about Clarke’s apartment reading some script and the blonde didn’t realize she was being watched more than the stack of papers were getting attention. And Lexa fell in love with her overalls that hung loose on her hips and were covered in colours. And she fell for the messy way her hair continually lost its battle with gravity and tried to escape the bun on her head. And the smudge of green under her chin. 

But this. Lexa’s eyes moved up her girlfriend’s body again and smiled, breathless and finally realizing it. Clarke shifted slightly and smiled nervously under her gaze, though she was relieved by the reaction. 

“I feel like I’m going to prom or something,” Clarke finally complained, smoothing her hands along the dress. “Do you know this dress costs like six months of rent?” 

“It is well worth it.” 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“Oh no, trust me. I promise.” 

“I don’t like you buying me things.” 

“I know. It’s annoying.” Clarke pursed her lips and gave her girlfriend a look and a shake of her head, earning only a smirk in return. “One dress. You can wear it to every event forever if you want.”

“Planning that far ahead, huh?” 

“Oh no. I assumed it’d be with someone else. Not me,” Lexa grinned, wrapping her arms around the artist. 

“I can’t believe I put up with you for almost a year already.” 

“Me neither. Sucker.”

“Do we have to go?” 

“To the premiere of the movie I stared in and the studio payed me millions to act in and listed as part of my obligations with the legally binding contract I signed?” Lexa wagered. “Nah. I’m sure we can skip it.” 

“Yeah but you made it before we were dating, so it’s pretty much null and void.” 

“I pay lawyers lots of money to tell me that your logic is probably not going to hold up. Plus, you’ll like it. I’ve gone to like a world’s worth of premieres already and I’m excited you get to be at the last one. I want to share important things with you. I’ve never taken anyone before to one of these.” 

“I switched shifts tomorrow so I go in late. Figured you’d keep me up,” Clarke sighed as she straightened the necklace on Lexa’s bare shoulders. She couldn’t stop staring at the skin on display. And the white of the dress and the chin and the lips and she was not as opposed to this thing as she let on when her girlfriend looked like this. 

“It’s been a while since I sat in a bookshop for a few hours trying to woo a beautiful attendant. But it seems like a good way to spend an afternoon.” 

“You know Wells likes it when you gaze at him. I’ll tell him to wear his good smock.” 

“It’s going to be fun.”

It was different than Clarke would have thought, though she was frequently wrong about most aspects of the girl who liked to kiss her, which was, by far, one of the best things in the world. The drive over was easy, though the nerves grew exponentially with every passing moment. But Lexa chattered about how everyone was excited to see her and how she was glad to be home after her tour of promoting. 

The past three months had been difficult, and there was no denying it. Clarke only got to see her in bits and pieces, and she knew Lexa ran herself ragged trying to see her. And she was insanely proud of her, for her work and how excited her girlfriend was for her next project. She was unsure about many things, but at the heart of it, Clarke was never unsure about Lexa, who, though calling herself an amateur in the field of relationships, was insanely eager to try and learn and do well. 

And when the doors opened, Clarke saw the shift in Lexa, subtle as it was. The way her shoulders squared, the way her smile was different, though natural, almost forced to be so. But she held Clarke’s hand and guided her down the carpet, taking the brunt of it. It was just as terrifying as the artist had imagined. 

“Try not to look like you just murdered someone,” Lexa whispered as they stopped to take pictures first. 

“You know that’s my default.” 

“Definitely don’t worry that the dress is tucked into your underwear or that you have lipstick on your teeth.” 

“Do I? Oh God, no,” Clarke looked down quickly before running her tongue over her teeth. “You’re an jackass, you know that?” she shook her head and couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, you do know that if this goes badly and they run unflattering headlines we’ll have to break up, don’t you?” 

“A jackass,” Clarke shook her head and felt her cheeks turning pink as Lexa kissed her temple and guided her by the waist. 

“You look really pretty.” 

“I better. I’m wearing six months of rent.” 

“If it makes you feel better, it’s only about one month of my rent.” 

“That certainly helps,” Clarke smiled, pausing again. 

The cameras were daunting, and Indra was too busy to do more than guide them as they walked. Clarke did her best to hang in the back and watch. It would have been fun if it hadn’t been terrifying. But Lexa squeezed her hip at times and made her laugh and it helped and she was grateful to spend time with her.

“Look at this,” Gustus approached, dapper and beard relatively tame as they reached the interviewing section. “Lovely, lovely ladies.” 

“It’s good to see you,” Clarke kissed his cheeks as he leaned down to hug her tightly. “I thought this thing was on the way out once you wrapped.” 

“It grew on me,” he grinned as Lexa ran her hand along it. 

“Did you condition it?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” 

“Clarke, you want to come with us?” Indra approached, arms full and phone glued to her fingers. 

“Oh yeah, of course,” she nodded as Lexa tugged her back and kissed her once more. 

“I’ll see you in there.” 

“Please don’t tell that bookstore story again.” 

All Clarke got was a wink. 

By the time they were able to make their way home from the after-party, both were sufficiently intoxicated and both were exceedingly handsy in the backseat of the car. After the initial trip from the car to the venue, it was easier, though no less overwhelming. It was the screaming of Lexa’s name and the sheer magnitude of people and activity that threw Clarke almost as much as they way her girlfriend handled it so easily. For the life of her, she was unsure how she’d ever do it again. 

But on the way home, Lexa kissed her neck and told her she looked beautiful and that she was glad Clarke was there to share it with her, and the artist swallowed her worries and gave in to the good champagne still bubbling in her blood.

* * *

“It’s cute when you do it,” Clarke complained as she moved around Lexa’s large kitchen. Lexa knew well enough to stay out of her way when these moods struck. The tirades were adorable, though Clarke just got upset when Lexa admitted such things. And so the actress simply sat back and tried not to smile. 

“Bell’s going to be mad,” Anya breezed through, dropping a stack of papers and her bag on the counter beside her sister. 

“Don’t,” Lexa shook her head, nudging her chin at Clarke, who did not notice the newest addition to the room. “Just let her tire herself out.” 

“What is she doing in my kitchen?” Bellamy came in, arms full of bags a second later. 

“Don’t,” Anya sighed as he took the seat beside her. “Apparently she is cranky.”

“I’m supposed to check my marinade.” 

“Some people camped out at her work, waiting to see me,” Lexa sighed as Clarke set her jaw and folded the cookie dough. 

“She has to get over this,” Anya shook her head, ignoring the show and beginning to sort through her paperwork. 

“That’s not fair.” 

“What did she think was going to happen?” 

“They knew so much about me,” Clarke finally said, not looking up as she began to roll the dough and put it on the pans. “You should have heard what they were saying. And I have to read so much absolute rubbish and the pictures. Oh my god. I just.” 

For a moment, Lexa simply looked at Clarke, watched her move and felt insanely guilty. She tried, so often, to dissuade her away from worrying, to hide away from reality, that she never truly considered what life was for her girlfriend now. She’d grown up almost used to it, starting at such a young age, it wasn’t that she didn’t notice or grow tired of it, but that she just accepted it as part of her life. Clarke didn’t get a choice.

“Bellamy is going to go to work with you,” she finally offered, sharing a look and raising her eyebrows at her friend who simply sighed and nodded. “He’s one hell of a bouncer.” 

“It’s true,” he offered.

“That’s not…” Clarke huffed and dropped her scoop, drying her hands in the towel on her shoulder. “That’s not the point. It’s just-” the words weren’t coming and she hated it. “I have to go.” 

“Come on, Clarke,” Lexa stood and tried to follow. 

“Just give me a minute.” 

“How can I help if you won’t tell me what to do?” 

“It’s not- You should- there’s- I don’t know.” 

“Okay, well let’s figure it out.” 

“Just give me a minute,” Clarke insisted, shaking her head. 

The house was quiet after the door closed The sound of Clarke’s car starting corresponded directly with Lexa’s stomach dropping. Lexa, stuck and realizing she’d underestimated the situation, felt that familiar feeling of being horrible sneak back into her skin. For the first time in the entirety of the situation, of their relationship, Lexa realized that she was not as smooth as she thought, that it was harder than it looked, and ultimately, that she could lose her. 

“I’ll tell you what, these are really good,” Bellamy finally broke the quiet as Lexa turned to see him nod and scoop a bit more dough with his finger. 

With a shake of her head, she ran her hands up her cheeks and cradled her forehead while her brain burdened itself with figuring out what she did and what to do next.

* * *

The small apartment in the part of town that Lexa was getting to know was becoming, quite quickly, her favorite place in the world, almost more of a home than the one she’d kept for the past three years with her sister and friends, more, even than the one she could almost remember when she was just a kid. The tiny studio that glowed pink and yellow from the neon sign of the pawn shop across the street, that smelled like fried food starting before the waking hours as the guy who made donuts in the shop below began, it felt safe and snug and comfortable. 

It was the bed with the sheets that smelled good, and the one pillow she’d taken as her own that just always felt right. And it was the snacks Clarke got that she stole. It was the way the one cushion on the couch was lumpy and the rotating cycle of paintings Clarke prepared and Lexa snuck peaks at despite the way they were filed against each other, facing the wall. 

Most importantly, it was the girl who let her stay there when she had to work early mornings, and came home to badly cooked lunches, where they both hid out and had friends over and entertained and kissed against the old, squeaky door and hung their feet out the windows at night. It was Clarke, Lexa had recognized, that felt like home. 

“This is going to be the worst schedule yet,” Lexa sighed, reading through the stack of papers Anya gave her on the way out. Clarke’s table was covered in Lexa’s work, and the artist liked it that way. 

“Just when I get used to you being home,” Clarke smiled from her corner as she cleaned up her brushes. 

“I’m never signing up to play a superhero ever again.” 

“I don’t think that’ll be too hard. I think you’re only allowed one.” 

“Clarke, honey, listen, you just wouldn’t understand. It’s called acting,” Lexa tossed her head back, dramatic flourish and all. 

“Is there anything exciting on the horizon?” 

“A few things. I just… I want so many. But I also haven’t taken any time off in… years? But who knows how long I’ll be worth anything. So I feel guilty.” 

“Well? What’s tops?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Lexa tossed her pen on the table and stared dejectedly at the mess. “Anya wants me to wait until after awards season.” 

“I don’t know why. You’re probably going to lose.” 

“Exactly,” she chuckled. “I know it doesn’t matter, but I kind of got my hopes up last time and it was stupid.” 

“I mean, you spent the whole time filming this one making up reasons to see some girl at a bookstore instead of reading the material she prepared for you,” Clarke grinned, walking around and letting her hands slide down Lexa’s shoulders, down her chest until her chin was on her shoulders. “You’re going to knock’em dead. You know that right?” 

“I want to do this one,” Lexa tilted the script she’d been lugging around for days. It was already frayed and had coffee stains on the front. 

“Alright, then do that one.”

“They don’t want me.” 

“Always have to be chasing what you can’t have, huh Woods?” Clarke smiled again, biting her girlfriend’s jaw, finally earning a glimmer of a chuckle. “Well, you got me. If you want it, you’ll get it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Listen, I’m not too sure about a lot of things,” Clarke agreed, moving around so she could take a seat in Lexa’s lap. “Like the tides and artificial intelligence and philosophy in general. But never once, in all the time that I’ve known you, have I doubted that you can do anything.” 

“You didn’t think I was good at that softball game for charity.” 

“Well, honey, you weren’t,” Clarke broke the news, patting her chest. “But you tried and you did it and things are going to be hard. That last movie kind of fizzled, but you were damn proud of it and knew it was festival material, real art, not to be measured in theatre paydays. But still, you’re measuring yourself by the wrong things. Don’t let Anya spook you with numbers.”

“When did you get so wise?” Lexa smiled and wrapped her arms around Clarke’s hips. She nudged the paint on her chin with her noise. She closed her eyes and smelled the linseed oil stuck to Clarke’s old shirt.

“I’m not sure. I just know that you are insanely talented, and whenever I second guess myself you make me feel better. You do that thing, where you just… It’s not a thing. You make this face when you see something I do and I know you like it. And I don’t want to tell you what to do, I just want to support whatever you decide. I want to make that face you do that makes me want to keep working harder.”

“We should discuss my options-”

“Nope,” Clarke shook her head and covered the actress’ mouth. “Film in New Zealand or Iceland or Russia for all I care. Nothing changes us. Got it, Hawkgirl?” Lexa smiled and Clarke felt it in her palm as she moved her head for her. 

“Bwayasnsoial-” Lexa murmured behind the guard. 

“Shh.” 

“Ishtwantcha-”

“Hush. It’s my turn,” Clarke finally dropped her palm. “I’ve been getting a lot of freelance work, and I was thinking of quitting the bookstore.” 

“You love working there though.” 

“I do, but I also love you. And I can work from my computer, or I can travel and work on my own stuff to come see you. I just.” 

“You… what?” 

“I think I should quit,” Clarke decided, nodding to herself. 

“Yeah, I heard that part. I mean… the after that.” 

“Well, Jasper wants me to come to New York for a bit and work with a few of his friends. There’s this real push to-”

Clarke didn’t finish because Lexa kissed her. Grabbed her neck and felt her ear with her thumb and despite the awkward angle kissed her as hard as she could. 

“I also love peanut butter and when big dogs try to sit in little things, but you don’t see them kissing me like that.” 

“I met you at a bookstore,” Lexa grinned, wide and far because she couldn’t hide it. “And you fell in love with me. Just like I had planned.” 

“I’m in it to win it, Woods.” 

“When did this come about? Most of the time I’m certain you barely tolerate me.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s what love is.” 

“I don’t have to say it, do I?” Lexa smirked, eyeing Clarke mischievously. “Just because you beat me to it. It’s not fair and I won’t say it because I’ve been dying to say it but didn’t want to like, show off.” 

“How do people have your pictures on their walls and daydream about you?” 

“Pure animal magnetism.” 

“I also don’t understand magnets.” 

“But you still believe in me.” 

“This is why I don’t like to show you affection because you run with it and I never hear the end of it.” 

“I’ll give you affection,” Lexa wiggled her eyebrows and lifted her girlfriend.


	5. Chapter 5

Nothing else felt quite like falling into a familiar bed after being away from it for so long. Clarke meant for it to only be a few minutes, meant to savour it for just a second, the falling into her bed, but somehow time got away from her. 

She was going to empty her suitcase and go grab a few groceries. She had emails to return after spending twenty-one hours on a flight back from across the world, and she had things to do after being away for a month, but the welcoming arms of her bed proved too much to overcome. That and how relaxed she was after her trip. That and the idea of letting things wait until tomorrow. That and the jetlag. 

By the time Lexa made it to Clarke’s apartment after a full night of filming, she was completely exhausted, and emotionally worn. The flying and the filming were already wearing her down. When she invited Clarke on a month-long sabbatical, she knew she was setting herself to be exhausted, but she greatly underestimated it. Something about being locked up with her girlfriend, a girlfriend she was insanely crazy about, a girlfriend that made her forget all others, that fixed her up and made her schedule a trip that was a few days too long. 

She tripped over the suitcase that was sitting on the floor, not put away, and swore beneath her breath as she righted herself and began pulling off clothes despite the pain in her shin and foot. She should have given herself a few days between, but she didn’t want to leave the bubble of a hotel room that was far away from her normal life. If anything, she fell harder and faster in a month for the artist she met in a bookstore. She wasn’t sure it was possible, but she did. 

“What time is it?” Clarke hummed as a body joined her between the sheets she’d somehow wormed herself into over the course of her extended nap. 

“Nearly two,” Lexa sighed. She closed her eyes and pressed herself against her girlfriend, careful to find a spot just beneath her chin. 

“How was it?” 

“Good.” 

“Was it the scene?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Your first day back?”

“Yeah.”

Her voice was quiet and small. Clarke felt fingers digging into her back as Lexa adjusted a bit more. It was a relatively new thing for the artist, to be a part of the process, to watch Lexa ache and become consumed in her work, often unable to take it off and leave it on set, often being burdened by thoughts and things well into the next night or day. 

Clarke did not open her eyes, but shifted slightly, pressing her hips into the actresses and running her cheek along her forehead before kissing there. 

“Don’t let me make you leave,” Lexa whispered. 

“Okay,” Clarke agreed. 

Her fingers moved to the crook of her shoulders, to the area of her neck just below her hair where she ran her fingers along, pulling and soothing away worry that seemed to brew constantly and barely made it to the surface. 

She didn’t say anything else, but instead, Lexa closed her eyes and pressed her face into Clarke’s chest, into the smell of her shirt and sheets and skin. Even if she weren’t as tired as she was, the deft fingers on her neck, under her hair, it all conspired like a drug. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Hawkgirl,” Clarke whispered, kissing her girlfriend’s forehead once more, careful not to wake her. She waited for her arms to slacken, to let go, to drift away, but even as she slept, Lexa didn’t let go. 

While she was unsure where the sorry came from exactly, Clarke knew that when the words came out of Lexa’s mouth, it meant that they’d been formulating for a long time. It took Herculean efforts for words laced with any sort of connotation of feeling to be scrutinized and replayed and sorted before making it to her lips. Every syllable was measured. Lexa was precise and she was not careless with her words or feelings. 

Though she’d slept all evening, Clarke closed her eyes and fell asleep, oddly comforted by Lexa’s wish.

* * *

It took three weeks for Clarke to get fed up with missing her girlfriend. Three weeks of her new schedule and three weeks of just being busy, missing each other, and orbiting around, yet never lining up. 

Clarke missed the month-long reprieve they had when they were travelling, before work piled up, before Lexa was pulled this way and that, locked in her own head and drowned in work. She got spoiled when she was all that Lexa had to pay attention to, and she was ashamed to admit, she wanted just an inkling of that back. 

“I come with gifts. Meaty, deli gifts,” Clarke exclaimed as she took the first step into Lexa’s trailer. “Anya said you’d be done for… the… night…”

She expected her girlfriend napping, maybe, or possibly brooding over a script in a corner of the small room. That would have made sense, because it’d been three weeks of short calls and understanding, it’d been three weeks of a distant, exhausted, furrowed Lexa who threw herself so completely into her work that Clarke noticed a shift in her moods. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke cleared her throat and looked around. “I thought this was… Lexa’s trailer.” 

“Oh it is!” a girl hopped up from the couch quickly, wiping her eyes from laughing so hard. “Lexa!”

Frozen on the step, still half-way down and not in the trailer completely yet, Clarke couldn’t move. All she could do was hold her bag of food and watch the stranger who looked eerily familiar, move towards the back of the trailer and call her girlfriend once more. 

“I think I’ll just leave this…” Clarke looked around frantically, suddenly need to leave very quickly for no reason at all. In a fight or flight moment, Clarke was severely aware that she was a flight risk. When it came to a beautiful girl that was locked up with her girlfriend after work, Clarke needed a moment to regroup and adjust. 

“She just went to change. We were rehearsing for tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder as she knocked on a small door. “This weird scene. It kind of… well, we got kind of distracted. We attempted to cook. It was a mess.” 

“If you could just tell her–”

“Lexa, a beautiful blonde, who I reckon is your girlfriend is here.” 

“Why are you hollering?” Lexa emerged from the bathroom with a billowing cloud of steam disappearing up into the ceiling. Clarke watched her tuck the towel tighter around her chest. “Clarke!” she beamed, meeting her girlfriend’s stricken eyes. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Clarke gulped and tried a smile. 

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming.” 

“Yeah, I got a few hours,” she nodded, offering up the bag once more, like a shield. “Thought I’d bring you dinner.” 

“This is eerily familiar of a certain bookshop over a year ago,” Lexa smiled, wide and big and relieved. “She’s taking a page out of my book,” she explained to the other girl in her trailer. “This is how I wooed her.” 

“I was just going to drop this off,” Clarke lied as Lexa took the few steps separating them. “Can’t have you withering away.” 

“Hey,” Lexa smiled like a kid on Christmas, kissing Clarke and holding onto her towel. “God, I’ve missed you.” She kissed her again. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you at work.” 

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Lexa smiled. “Let me put clothes on. You’re right on time. I failed miserably at trying to cook and we’re starving.” 

“I really have to go,” Clarke insisted, backing away. 

“Please?” the actress pouted for good measure. “Its perfect. I want to introduce you to Lucy, and we can eat. Just a few minutes.” 

“Alright,” the artist nodded. 

“I’ll be right back. Clarke, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is my girlfriend, Clarke,” she mentioned, quickly cleaning off the table from papers and notes. 

“I’ve heard so much about you,” the other actress held out her hand as Clarke put down the bags. “Lexa doesn’t stop talking about you.”

“I wish I could say the same.” She shook her hand and tried to smile. 

“I keep her kind of busy,” the girl relented. “This shoot has been gruelling.” 

“I really liked your work, you know, in that movie with the grandmother, and the Dementia. It was fascinating. And my mom, she studies that kind of stuff, and she was… she was rooting for you.” 

“That’s very kind.” 

The quiet settled between them, an almost awkward kind of silence that made Clarke look around the trailer as if she had no right to be there. She knew it was silly. She tried to convince herself not to be so silly. But all she could do was feel that burning jealousy and betrayed feeling that usurped that silliness until it was impossible to ignore. 

“This must look bad,” Lucy nodded. “If I were you, I’d be worrying myself sick thinking about things that just aren’t true.” 

Clarke looked at her and tried to start dissuading her. She was beautiful. Blonde and tall, articulate, sweet. Never before had Clarke been more aware of her hips and her face and her hands and how even in sweatpants and messy hair tied up on her head, this woman was stunning in the way that people pay thousands to be on their best days. 

“I swear it’s nothing,” she explained. “You two are frustratingly perfect and its annoying for those who are freshly dumped, just so you know. But it also makes me hopeful.”

“You just… you just broke up?” 

“My boyfriend wasn’t a fan of the schedule. So I get it.” 

“It can be hard,” Clarke nodded. 

“What did you bring me?” Lexa came back in, toweling her hair. 

“Hey, I’m going to let you two have dinner,” Lucy stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Are you sure? I’m sure there’s more than enough,” Lexa furrowed, looking between her friend and her girlfriend. 

“I should go. My mom’s been calling me all day. About time I manned up and talked to her. It was nice to meet you, Clarke.” 

“Likewise.” 

“Hey, call me if you need anything,” Lexa offered, following her to the steps and hanging out of the trailer. Clarke couldn’t hear the next few words, and busied herself with setting up the small picnic. “She’s going to be worked up after talking to her mother.” 

“Ah,” Clarke nodded, unable to pretend to care as her girlfriend took a seat across from her. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Lexa smiled, watching her unpack. “I didn’t think I’d see you. I missed you like crazy, but I’ve been so busy and swamped and–”

“You seem busy.” 

“Goodness, I missed you,” Lexa grinned, melting Clarke for a moment before she shook her head, trying to get herself out of the daze. 

The truth of it was that she missed Lexa a lot too, and seeing her now was enough to make her worry assuage. It would be simpler to not pick a fight, to let it go, but the hurt ran deep and rampant, and Clarke was tired. 

“I’m just going to go,” she decided as Lexa began to talk about how excited she was about her special dinner. The chatter and chit chat was something she did when nervous. 

If she stopped talking, Lexa knew that Clarke would say something, that she would verbalize the hurt and be disappointed, and Lexa knew why and she didn’t want to have that fight. 

“Clarke,” the actress sighed. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” the artist nodded, sliding out of her seat. 

“Lucy is just a good friend.”

“Yeah, no, I know.” 

“Clarke,” Lexa tried again, grabbing her girlfriend’s wrist for a moment before it was pulled away. 

“You know what? I’m not even jealous. I’m not even upset that you were apparently naked and showering with a girl in your trailer. That wasn’t the first thing that crossed my mind,” she grit her teeth. “The first thing I thought was ‘Wow, my girlfriend makes time for her friends and she sure is having a great time.’” 

“It wasn’t like that.” 

“I haven’t see you in weeks for more than an hour or two at a time, and I understand. I’m trying to be supportive, but it’s a real punch in the gut to see that you are just here having fun and I’m waiting around like an idiot.” 

“Clarke.” 

“No. Stop saying my name.”

“I haven’t done this before!” Lexa tried, reaching for her girlfriend again. “I don’t know what the rules are!” 

“It’s basic decency, Lexa,” Clarke shook her head. “It’s a basic thought that ‘hmm, maybe I should hang out with my girlfriend once in a while,’ or that maybe you did miss me. Nothing was keeping you away except yourself. You told me you’d be filming late and then preparing for tomorrow. That’s fine. I’m all for you doing your job. I’m all for doing what you do and loving your craft. Hell, I wouldn’t have even minded if you’d texted me and said you were taking a break with a friend. But to just see that I don’t cross your mind at all?” 

“You’re right,” Lexa sighed, sitting down. “I honestly just didn’t think of it. It all blurred together. I got done, I messaged you, Lucy came over, we were rehearsing and then… I just… I didn’t realize.”

“Well that’s fun for me.” 

Sullen and sore, Clarke leaned against the small cabinet as her girlfriend took a seat at the table. She watched her run her hands over her face and sigh so hard her shoulders moved. 

“I’m trying to be honest. I know it’s not an excuse, but I’m not used to thinking about someone else, and the work that goes into it. It’s been easy so far.”

“I’m trying, but this has been hard.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I was really glad you came,” Lexa offered. She looked at Clarke from under her lashes like a whipped puppy, aware that it would be effective, and genuinely meaning it.

“Don’t do that.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Lexa.” 

“I mean it.” 

“You’ve been a terrible girlfriend.” 

“Let me make it up to you. I have food.” 

“I brought it!” 

“I have beer,” Lexa amended. “Listen,” she stood, inched her way closer to her girlfriend who remained rooted, unmoving and still angry. “I’m going to do better. I understand, and I’m sorry.” She was approaching a skittish, wild thing that was beyond her expertise. 

“I don’t care if you want to spend time with your friends,” Clarke tried, her resolve fading 

“I know that,” she nodded, putting her hands on her girlfriend’s hips. “I really am sorry.” 

“I’m sorry I snapped.” 

“No, don’t.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can we have dinner? I’m starving.”

“I don’t mean to be selfish and demanding. I’m sorry.” Clarke slipped her hands around Lexa’s neck, trailing up her shoulders. She heard her words repeating in her head and hated it. 

“You, my dear, are far from selfish, and definitely not demanding.” 

“Our first fight.” 

“There was that time we argued about what movie we were going to go see,” Lexa reminded her wit a grin, leaning in to kiss her finally. “I’m sorry that I made you feel unwanted, or like you aren’t a priority,” she whispered, hugging the artist tightly. “I want you a lot.”

“Okay,” Clarke nodded, burying her nose in Lexa’s shoulder. 

“I mean it. I never considered it that way, or what you must feel like, and that’s terrible. I’m terrible. But I’m trying.” 

“I know.” 

“Don’t quit on me.” 

“I told you. I’m not going anywhere, Hawkgirl.”

* * *

“You better be careful,” Anya worried, tossing a magazine across the counter and picking up another. “Clarke is good for you.” 

“This is trash,” Lexa shrugged, pushing another away. 

“Looks like you and Lucy are a cute couple.” 

“Stop.” 

“I mean it. Look how happy. You’re laughing and having a good time. “ Anya held up a cover of the two actresses coming out of dinner, absolutely brimming. Lexa looked away, disgusted and disinterested.”So cute.” 

“It’s not fair that Clarke has to see this. But am I just not supposed to have friends? Am I just supposed to hide away?” 

“Just be careful,” her sister reminded her, picking up another as the phone rang again. 

“Just pick it up and tell her no.” 

“I don’t feel like playing with Indra today.” 

“You still sleeping with Bellamy?” 

“So? You’re sleeping with your co-star.” 

“I’m not! These pictures were literally taken as we walked to meet Clarke for coffee.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m going to see Clarke,” Lexa stood, pushing her chair back from the table angrily with a screech. She tossed the magazine she had and let it fall from the table. 

“Better check with your girlfriend first.” 

Anya chuckled to herself and answered the phone as her sister scowled and stalked out the door. Amused, she flipped through the pages as she was connected to an angry agent.

* * *

As silly as Clarke felt for her outburst, the longer she thought about it, the longer time dragged on, the more she was almost grateful they had the first fight. It hadn’t sparked a major second, and she felt a million ways lighter and more confident. It might have helped that Lexa was attentive and actually trying, no longer taking for granted the time they spent together, no longer acting as if she did not have anyone to answer to, explicitly. 

All in all, Clarke hated fighting, but the results were hard to disregard.

Once the pictures started in the magazines, once the rumors started, Clarke noticed a shift in Lexa. Though she told her girlfriend not to worry, that she understood, the actress took it upon herself to dote on the artist. Clarke got flowers, she got a surprise dinner, a weekend locked up in a hotel room downtown with only room service and a huge bath tub. All of which she promised Lexa were unnecessary. 

It didn’t make her feel less confident in her relationship, to see the accusations that Lexa was cheating on her. Weirdly enough, she felt completely alright with how things were going. But on the rarest of days, on the moments of weakness, she looked at Lucy and how she interacted with Lexa, and the primal surge of jealousy crept into her bones. 

As much as she told herself not to, to ignore it, she just couldn’t shake the feeling that even though she trusted Lexa more than anything, she didn’t trust her friend. And she hated herself for it. 

“Just let me finish,” Clarke rolled her eyes and smiled despite the annoyed tone. 

“I am, I am,” Lexa defended herself. “Take your time.” 

“You keep checking your watch and sighing.” 

“I like the previews. The previews set the tone, set the mood for the movie, let me know what else is happening, help me get in the space and ready to receive the movie.” 

“We’ll make it in plenty of time,” her girlfriend promised, typing her email with a shake of her head. 

“It’s just a process, you know,” Lexa kept ranting through explanation. “I have my process for watching a movie, and you are going to make us late.” 

“I promise we are not going to miss any previews. And we’re not going to miss getting your usual snacks. And we’re not going to miss making out.”

“I’m just saying.” 

“Let me finish.” 

“You said that five minutes ago.” 

“You’re a literal child, do you know that?” 

“Yes.”

“There. See? Ready to go,” she muttered after clicking send. “It’s hard being self-employed. I don’t have a boss to blame things on.” 

“You’re the boss.” 

“Mmm, say it again,” Clarke wiggled her eyebrows and moved, putting her laptop on the coffee table and shifting, crawling so she straddled her girlfriend’s lap. 

“That you’re the boss?” Lexa asked, confused but going with whatever was happening. 

“Yeah. I like the sound of it.” 

“You’re a sexy boss,” she muttered, hands automatically moving to hips, lips automatically moving to lips. Lexa’s thumbs hit skin, dipped under shirt and rubbed hipbones. 

“Not on the couch!” Bellamy complained as he walked into the kitchen, causing Clarke to sit up a little, pulling away just as she began to push against her girlfriend, just as her hands knit in her hair, just as her tongue dipped in her mouth and the hum started at the base of her throat. 

Her cheeks flushed despite the way Lexa pulled her closer. 

“I thought you were out.” 

“Thank goodness I wasn’t a few minutes later or it might have gotten really weird.” 

“Okay, no,” Clarke pulled away and stood, adjusting her shirt a little. “No. We wouldn’t. We haven’t. On the. Couch. No.” 

“That’s not what I heard,” Bellamy smirked before ducking into the fridge to forage for food. He missed the glare Clarke tossed the actress who feigned innocence despite the guilty smirk he shared. 

“We’re definitely going to be late,” Lexa stood, pushing her hair around and blushing slightly. 

“You sure were okay with being late a minute ago,” Clarke sassed. 

“Yeah, well…” 

“You kids have fun,” Bellamy stood, arms full of supplies. “Don’t get her home too late. You know how I worry.” 

“You sure you don’t want to come, Bellamy?” Clarke offered. 

“Yeah, come on. I haven’t been able to get you out of the house in like three days. Anya will be back soon.” 

“I’m fine. You guys go have your date or whatever,” he shrugged. Clarke gave Lexa a pointed look as the actress moved to say goodbye. 

“No, come on,” she compulsorily insisted. “It’s not a real date night anyway. Lucy is coming.” 

“Oh!” Clarke caught herself saying. “Lucy is coming. Lucy is going to be there, too. Lucy. Lucy is coming with us. Lucy is coming to the movies.” 

“Yeah. It thought I told you this morning. It’s like her anniversary with the ex or something and she was a bit bummed, so I thought she could tag along.” 

“Yeah, no, yeah of course, why not? Definitely.” Clarke shut her mouth quickly, realizing there were too many words coming from it. “You should come, Bellamy.” 

“Yeah?” he asked slowly. “Let me go get my shoes on.” 

“It’s like we have a kid,” Lexa shook her head as he shoved everything back in the fridge. “And we’re definitely going to miss the previews.” 

“I’ll give you full custody in the divorce,” Clarke promised.

“You don’t mind, do you?” 

“No. Like you said. Not a proper date night. Just hanging out. It’s more than okay.” 

“Proper date night is on Saturday,you know,” Lexa promised, wrapping Clarke up in her arms. “Dinner,” she kissed her lips. “Dancing,” her hands moved lower on her hips, squeezing through her jeans. “Your place for a night cap.” 

“Perfect.”

* * *

“You’re cold,” Clarke groaned and tried to bury her head in her pillow. The sheets pulled along her hip. 

Lexa was not graceful with her mildly drunken entrance. Her lock scratched at the door before it found the hole. Her clothes were a struggle to get off, and she battled them through the familiar apartment. By the time she got into bed, she was exhausted, but still, she flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. 

“I have to talk to you.”

“Baby, go to sleep. Tell me about the wrap party tomorrow,” Clarke complained, burrowing down, deep into the covers beside her girlfriend. Her nose found naked shoulder, and she hid there, yawning. 

“No, I need to talk to you,” Lexa said, turning over, leaning close, resting her head on her girlfriend’s forehead, curling up into herself. 

“How much did you drink?” 

“Not a lot. Please? I’m sorry. Just a minute.” 

“What’s wrong?” Clarke opened her eyes. In the dark, in the barely light of the street outside filtering through the loose curtains, she barely saw Lexa’s profile. She lifted her hand and ran it along her cheek, along her neck and extended the sheet to cover her slightly. 

“Nothing.” 

“Lex.” 

“I love you.” 

“You… what?” 

“I love you. And I need you to know that.” 

“Lexa.”

“You’re going to see pictures tomorrow,” Lexa whispered. She closed her eyes and held onto Clarke’s hip. She swallowed and it hurt. “I didn’t kiss her.” 

“What did you do?” 

“I pushed her away!”

“What did she do?” 

“I think she was just confused, or drunk, or excited, and it came out in a way that-”

“How can you make excuses?” Clarke pulled away. Her hands dropped. 

“She kissed me, and I don’t want to lie-”

“There’s no point. Like you said. I’ll see it all in the morning.” The artist rolled over and stared at the roof. The headlights from a car drove across her ceiling as she knit her fingers in her hair and tugged. 

“I didn’t want to kiss her,” Lexa insisted, scooting closer. 

“Yeah, but you got into that situation.” 

“By having a friend who I trusted?” 

“You know better than that.” 

“I know what?” 

“She looked at you like… Like…” Clarke sat on the edge of the bed, pulling away as much as she could. “Like I look at you.” 

“What about how I look? Who I look at?” Lexa followed, scooting closer again and again. “That should matter.” 

“What do we do now?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Clarke.” 

“What am I supposed to say? You don’t have to do anything. I have to see those tomorrow, and I have to smile and nod and laugh it off when people bring it up and say we’re breaking up.” 

“Are we?” 

“What?” 

“Are we breaking up?” 

“What? No,” Clarke sighed, standing and pushing her hair around again. It was messy and tangled and she was exhausted. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Unless you want to?” 

“I don’t!” Lexa yelped. “No. Not at all. Not a bit. No. Definitely not.” 

“You going to go kissing anyone else?” 

“I didn’t kiss anyone! I was kissed! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I swear, Clarke. I don’t want to kiss anyone, but you.” 

“I don’t want to ask you what I need to ask you,” Clarke paused, turning around in the darkness and staring at the blank patch that was her bed. She made out her girlfriend’s silhouette. 

“Try me.” 

“I trust you. I just… I can’t… I don’t think I could… It’d drive me crazy if you were with her. Near her. Hanging out with her. I don’t like to ask this because it seems so unfair-”

“Done.” 

“Lexa.”

“No. I mean it. Done. I won’t be around her more than needed, never alone, no communication. Done. I mean it. No contact. I’m okay with that.” 

“Seriously?” 

“She did this. She didn’t give me a chance.” 

“I don’t want to see you tonight.” 

“Clarke.” 

“I just can’t,” Clarke shook her head. She turned on the light near her table, finally getting rid of the darkness. She squinted against it and Lexa was certain she’d never been more beautiful. “I’m angry and I can only be so rational. I get it. You were kissed. I don’t hold it against you much, and in my head I know that it was her. But right now, that side isn’t winning, and I need to sleep it off or something and looking at you makes me angry.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know. Don’t do it again. I swear to God, Lexa,” Clarke shook her head and her nostrils flared. “Don’t you do this to me again.” 

“I won’t. Ever. I swear. I am so sorry.” 

“She kissed you?” 

“I swear it. I was dancing, and she grabbed me and kissed me. My hands were up,” Lexa mimicked her stance. “I wasn’t drunk. I immediately pushed her away and I left. I came straight here.” She was earnest. Lexa was earnest and bare and Clarke believed her, in her head, but that didn’t negate the hurt and the rage in her heart at the incident. 

“Can we pick this up in the morning?” Clarke asked after holding Lexa’s gaze for as long as she could stand. 

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded. “Can you just…” she stood and pulled on her shirt. “Can you tell me that we’re going to be okay.” 

“Fighting doesn’t mean I’m leaving. We can not like each other sometimes and still not run away.” 

“Oh.” 

“Seriously?” 

“What?” 

“You didn’t know that?” 

“No.” Her pants went up quickly, and the innocence of the statement made Clarke want to smile despite the still anger that slept with her. 

“I can be mad and still love you. That’s how it works.” 

“Oh, okay,” the actress nodded as if it made sense, as if it finally clicked, as if she understood this new lesson. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” Lexa nodded, grabbing her keys and phone from the table, much more sober than the first time she entered. “Can I kiss you before I go?”

“Yeah.” 

“I am sorry,” Lexa sighed, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. “Can you say it again?” 

“Say what?” 

“That it’s not over. That when I wake up tomorrow, you won’t hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“Alright.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Clarke nodded. She stuttered, then leaned forward, hand on Lexa’s chest, and kissed her cheek as well.


	6. Chapter 6

Dawn came slowly, disinterested and unfeeling, but still, it came right on schedule, though not soon enough. Even with the remnants of alcohol in her system, even with the way her bed felt, Lexa couldn’t find a restful bit of sleep to save her life. Instead, she watched the sunrise against her wall as she laid in her bed, still in her clothes and replayed the night in vivid details behind her eyelids. 

By the time it got to be too much work to pretend to sleep, she allowed herself to get up, shower, change, hoping that it would mean that the new day would erase some of the problems. But she couldn’t help herself, and when she opened her laptop and she saw the pictures, she knew exactly what kind of day it was going to be. 

“You really–” Bellamy let out a low whistle from the couch as Lexa made her way out to the living room.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Indra called already.”

“I definitely don’t want to hear it,” she sighed, flopping down on a chair. He tossed a magazine across the coffee table. She was certain they couldn’t be worse than the knee-jerk reactions online, thought she was sure they were terrible in a new, fun way. 

“You really–” Anya breezed in.

“Stop!” Lexa groaned, letting her head fall back against the chair as she closed her eyes. “Not a word about it. I have it under control.”

“Clarke was good for you,” her sister ignored the plea. “She made you look good. Wholesome, even. Have you spoken with her?”

“Yes. She knew last night. I think we’re alright.”

“How did you pull that one off?” Bellamy shook his head, chuckling as he flipped through another magazine, Lexa’s face already splashed across it in less than twelve hours. “I’d never do that to you, by the way, babe,” he tossed over his shoulder to the woman in the kitchen.

“What happened, Lex?” Anya rolled her eyes as she checked her phone, and balancing her mug of coffee, took a seat beside Bellamy, looking over the spread on the table.

“Lucy is insanely hot though,” Bellamy mused, still not looking up to Lexa’s extra groan. “Clarke’s hot, too though. You like collect hot blondes.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she growled, covering her face with her hands and exhaling quickly, deeply, hoping to strip the very frustration from her bones. “She was drunk. She kissed me. I went right over to Clarke’s and told her. It’s that simple.”

“You okay?”

“I think so. I don’t know what to do about Clarke. She said giver her space, give her the night, but I’m afraid.”

“What did she say?”

“Just that she wasn’t really a fan of Lucy being around, and I told her I’d never see her again if I could avoid it.”

“It’ll be alright,” Anya promised as her sister shook her head and let her head loll back once more, both exhausted and frustrated. “You know nothing like this can happen again, right?”

“Are you saying this as my manager or my sister?” Lexa taunted.

“Clarke may forgive you for this, because it was Lucy’s choice, but if you let yourself get into this situation again, she won’t forgive it.”

“You had to have known Lucy wanted you. She was all over you,” Bellamy interjected.

“Alright, I don’t like this,” Lexa stood, wagging her finger between the two on the couch. “I feel like I’m getting a lecture from my parents, and last time I checked, they were dead and you were my driver,” she accuses Bellamy, “And you were my manager,” she points at her sister. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Fuming and flaring, she put her hand on her hips and shook her head, chest moving with the pent up aggression she couldn’t direct at herself any longer, that she couldn’t direct at Lucy, that she had no outlet for at all except for the two on the couch who sipped the coffee and checked their phone. Anya sighed and ran her hand along Bellamy’s back as he recoiled slightly at the assault, unaccustomed to such an outburst from his friend.

“Feel better?” Anya sassed.

“No,” Lexa sighed, flopping back down in a heap.

“Grow up and take responsibility for your part in this. There’s no way a girl just walked up and kissed you. Yeah–” Anya held up her hand as her sister went to interrupt. “She was drunk, she came on to you. I get it.”

“But be real,” Bellamy sighed. “You haven’t pushed away her advances.”

“She was my friend. I thought it was just innocent, that’d she outgrow it.”

“Own it. You messed up.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I snapped,” Lexa grumbled.

“You don’t have to be a jerk,” Bellamy reminded her as he stood, clearly sore and not taking it. Lexa didn’t have it in her to stop him, but she knew that was just another regretful thing she’d said that she would add to the seemingly ever-growing list.

“You hurt his feelings,” Anya guilted.

“Well he can get in line.”

“You know we’re right.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled.

“Talk to Indra, please,” her sister stood, pausing only to kiss the top of her head. “It’ll be alright. Clarke’s better than you, and she’ll still love you.”

“You think she loves me?”

“You’re so dumb sometimes, I can’t stand it.”

With just a grunt, Lexa found herself alone in the living room staring at the damn picture on the front page, blatantly confronted with her own failure. She sighed and pushed out of the chair, dialing Indra and heading to find her friend.

* * *

As much as Clarke enjoyed travelling, the flight to London was long, almost too long, made only worse by the eagerness she felt to see her girlfriend after two months apart. It was a more difficult two months than she remembered the first time Lexa took a job. The fact that Clarke made a go of doing her own thing in New York for a few months strained it, but ultimately, they were still better than ever despite it all, and after a particularly draining script, Clarke knew Lexa needed a surprise.

If she were being honest, she needed it too. Still slightly wary after the incident, she never lost any trust in Lexa, but it made her infinitely more aware of the precariousness of their situation, of the prying eyes, of the microcosm in which she now lived just to be with that stupid goober who could act so hard it left her exhausted for days, and at the same time not know how to balance a check book.

Two months apart was almost a godsend. It was two months of late night and early morning phone calls that lasted for hours, that encompassed new things, as if they were just starting all over again, each putting a little more skin in the game this time around, each trying harder, giving more after the notion of losing it was thrust into their peripherals. Just once, Clarke allowed herself to think that a beautiful actress kissing her girlfriend and it being spread along the tabloids for a few weeks was a blessing. In a way it was. In another, it still made her want to punch a certain blonde in the face and never leave Lexa’s side, though she knew that was irrational. But she was no saint.

“I am so glad to see you,” Bellamy grinned, long and floppy as he met Clarke at pick up. He pulled her into a huge hug as she dropped her bag on the sidewalk. “I might be happier to see you than Lexa’s going to be.”

“I hope not,” Clarke laughed, rubbing his back as he finally let her go. “How’s she doing?”

“It’s been a gruelling shoot. Pretty rough. She was doing stunts the past few days,” he explained picking up the bag for the traveller. “She was talking about taking a break after this one. I’ve never heard her mention a break.”

“She’s tired, Bell. She’s worked non-stop for seven years.”

“I know, but it’s different. I can’t explain it.”

“I’ll get her all fixed up,” Clarke promised as they made their way to the car.

As long as the flight was, the drive felt even longer. Distance and time seemed to be working in opposite ways, as in the closer she got, the longer each second seemed to stretch, the more she felt every instant of passing time. But the company wasn’t terrible, with her having a soft spot for Lexa’s childhood friend who spent a lot of time asking her how she was doing, how her art was coming, how her freelance stuff was doing. He wasn’t a terrible person, and more than anything, she loved how he was simply someone who was pleasant to talk to for a long time.

The set was fantastic, was huge, was otherworldly, and even after seeing the first movie, even after spending time on more sets than she could count in the past two years, all of various sizes and shapes and structure, this one took the cake as they pulled up.

“I’m nervous to see her,” Clarke confessed as the car came to a stop.

“All she talks about is you. It’s annoying. You shouldn’t be nervous,” he promised. “Seriously,” Bellamy nodded as he turned the car off. “Everyone on set knows way too much about you and they haven’t met you because she brags. I’m not kidding. She brags relentlessly, shows off pictures of your work, reads books you’re talking about. You’re both idiots to be nervous.”

“Well that was a nice pep talk,” she chuckled.

“Between you and me, being in love with one of those two is damn near impossible, so it’s nice to have someone who understands how absolutely mad they are.”

“You’re… you’re in love with Anya?” 

“Well yeah, just like you’re in love with Lexa.” 

“I don’t know… we haven’t…” 

“Idiots.” 

“Yeah, we really are.” 

“Someone looks at anyone like Lexa looks at you when you’re not looking, they’re in love,” he decided. For a moment Clarke just thought about the word, thought about how much she had bursting through her bones. 

“We should form a club.”

“Matching shirts and a secret handshake,” he agreed.

If the flight was long, and the drive was longer, than waiting in the trailer for Lexa to wrap for the day was excruciating. Clarke wondered if bamboo shoots or any number of contraptions from the Inquisition were options as an alternative to simply waiting.

She didn’t have much to preoccupy herself with, though she spent a few minutes perusing Lexa’s trailer. Scripts were stacked on a table, a gift from Indra, no doubt, eager to see her next choice. Notes were written in fine, precise little letters in the margins as she flipped through a few. A few articles of clothing were strewn in different spots, though nothing was severely out of place. A stack of books sat on the couch in a corner, half comics for the role, the other half ones Clarke sent over as she finished them and thought Lexa would enjoy.

The trailer lacked in personality at first glance, but upon deeper inspection, Clarke couldn’t help but notice so many pieces of herself and Lexa, that it was phenomenal.

“I just want to sleep,” Lexa’s voice came from outside before the door opened. Clarke felt her heart beat faster and her breath catch in her throat. “Come on, Bell, we’ll go tomorrow. I’m just–”

Somehow, in front of her, Lexa was certain she saw a ghost, was certain she was having a stroke or something of the kind. As she was halfway between tugging off her undershirt and being naked, half her costume on and half discarded in frustration, she stared right at the most beautiful blue eyes she thought she’d ever seen, and had forgotten they existed.

“Hey,” Clarke grinned.

“God, I am so happy to see you,” Lexa muttered, shaking her head and swallowing Clarke in a hug that damn near strangled her. She felt herself be lifted slightly as Lexa hugged her around the middle, twirling her around excitedly. More than anything though, the actress clung, buried her head in the crook of Clarke’s neck and felt her body relax as if she’d been holding it tense without realizing.

“I missed you too much,” Clarke informed her, wrapping her arms around shoulders. “Two months is too long, I’ve decided. No more of that. I don’t care where you go, but I’m putting my foot down and I’ll vi–”

Lexa doesn’t care about all of the words. Not one single syllable could be more important than kissing the girl who flew across the ocean to surprise her. And so she does. She’s smiling too much, but still, she tried and she swallowed the blonde’s lips and pressed her against the wall of the trailer and held on for dear life, because Clarke was right. Two months was too long, and if anything she’d only fallen deeper in love with the artist who stayed up at night reading to her to help her sleep, even being a handful of timezones apart.

“Can’t you take me back to your hotel?” Clarke manages as her hands dig into back muscles, betraying her words and urging Lexa closer.

“I plan on it,” she grinned, biting bottom lip, kissing under chin.

Clarke’s coat is quickly tossed, and her shirt is quickly added to the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. In the tussle to make it to the back where the bed is, the door to the bathroom is bent at a horrifying angle. A light in the hall goes out and is broken. Neither notice the noise the bed makes when they hit it, cracking one of the supports.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Lexa whispers, unable to keep quiet. Clarke straddles her hips as she works to unfasten her girlfriend’s jeans. Her shirt is pulled up and thrown away, giving her the world’s best view, and she’d seen many to compare it to, though preferred none other more.

“I’m in love with you, you idiot,” Clarke explains, leaning over and kissing Lexa sweetly, longingly, roughly until she feels fingertips pushing at her jeans.

“Believe it or not, that’s how I always thought the first time you told me that, would sound,” she grins wickedly, rolling her girlfriend over and tugging on jeans.

There was little time for more words, little time for more though. She had to have her. It was a compulsion, an itch, the reason she lived and breathed, and so she did. She left marks in her wake, earned moans on her trip, and when she made her come, she was rewarded with the lethargic kind of needy that came with Clarke wanting nothing more than to make her feel that good. And so she did, and then Lexa did again, and then she couldn’t stop herself once more.

“I love you,” Lexa chanted in time with her racing heart as she laid herself across Clarke’s chest. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I said it first. I win.”

“I sat in a bookstore for ten hours.”

“You didn’t love me then.”

“You have no clue how wrong you are,” Lexa laughed and dug her nose into Clarke’s stomach, lazily kissing there.

* * *

Though the schedule was gruelling, it was coming to an end, and for that, Lexa was grateful. She didn’t even mind that she had one more arduous task at hand, one more stop in the long stretch of stops promoting. She didn’t mind because it meant that tomorrow she could sleep in, and she would wake up and kiss Clarke, and they would start planning their spur of the moment vacation in which phones would be used minimally, and of which they would travel the world with nothing but a few changes of clothes and toothbrushes. Whatever they needed, they’d buy. Wherever they felt like venturing for the day, is where they would go. It was the kind of freedom Lexa lacked during her press tour, during filming, and she wanted it with Clarke.

With an enormous yawn, Lexa ran her hand over her face and tried to find some kind of wakefulness, though she was already digging deep into a bone-dry well. She felt a surge of energy though, when the door finally opened and her girlfriend checked herself once more in the mirror of Lexa’s bathroom.

“Well, what do you think?” Clarke asked, timid and unsure, running her hand over the dress. Lexa swallowed and felt that loopy kind of smile start one one half of her mouth, as if Clarke had just given her a stroke and it was taking her lips longer than normal to catch up with the other side.

“I’ll never get sick of this sight,” the actress decided. “You look… phenomenal.”

“Oh, you have to say that,” she dismissed the words.

“I just have to tell you that you look amazing. I don’t have to tell you that you’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever existed, but it’s true.” Despite the line, Clarke blushed and Lexa felt victorious despite the anxious hands that still plagued her girlfriend. “Seriously, you look… I don’t know. I don’t have the words, and I’m getting a little annoyed that you do this to me.”

“You’re sure this dress is okay?”

“It’s amazing. You picked a good one,” Lexa promised, standing from the seat across the room. “I want to take you out of it already.”

“You have to wait a little while,” she grinned, clicking off the light.

When she met Lexa in the room, she ran her hands up her chest and straightened her collar, straightened her jacket, unbuttoned another button, exposing more skin down her chest in the button up, nodding happily at her addition. Fingertips skated over the skin there until she met a necklace settled just below collarbone.

“I found it in an old box in the garage when I was looking for a book,” Lexa explained, lifting her chin slightly. “It was my dad’s.” Clarke toyed with the class ring that hung from a dainty chain. “He gave it to my mom on their third date.”

“I like it.”

“Well, I thought about it,” Lexa swallowed and met Clarke’s eyes. “And I figured I should take a page out of his book.” With a slight dip, she dug in her pocket and pulled out a long velvet box, presenting it between the two bodies who hovered close.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Clarke shook her head. “Seriously, Lex.”

“I know, I know,” she rolled her eyes. “Before you lecture me, just know that I got it for you and you have to take it. Consider it an anniversary present, and a thank you, for sticking it out with me and my terrible schedule and just me. You deserve something nice, and you don’t let me spoil you enough.”

“This one thing,” Clarke relented as it creaked open. “Goodness, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s no class ring, but I figured you wouldn’t mind. I’m glad it goes with your dress.”

“Can you?” she asked, turning around and slipping her hands in her hair, earning a smile that there was no more fight put up over the diamond.

With oddly shaking hands, Lexa managed to clasp it, kissing her girlfriend’s neck before hair was let down. She kissed shoulder and felt Clarke turn back around and hug her tightly.

“Thank you,” Clarke whispered.

“Anything for you.”

“Now are you going to take me to a premiere or not. I want to see what you made.”

“Like I said. Anything for you,” Lexa nodded. “But you are going to be lucky if you make it back to this room with that dress still on.”

There was a lot of work that went into the days leading up to their trip, and Clarke felt every minute of hard work she put into making sure she could go. She worked herself to the bone for weeks to finish up projects and have a little chunk of change so she didn’t feel like a complete freeloader.

But all of it was worth it for spend the evening with Lexa at something she worked hard on, just to know, with some peace of mind, that tomorrow they were disappearing together, and it would be perfect.

“You going to be okay?” Lexa squeezed Clarke’s hip. Cameras clicked and they stood together, Lexa refusing to let go. 

“Of course. I’ve become quite good at these since I met you.” 

“Because you did them a lot before I walked into your bookshop?” 

“All the time,” Clarke grinned. She let Lexa kiss her, carefully wiping at the lipstick mingling there. 

“I know you’re not her biggest fan…” 

“Why would you think that?” 

“I know its been a thing you’ve had to read and see and I’m sorry–”

“Don’t. Let’s just get this done and then leave tomorrow, okay?” Clarke sighed, earning a smile and kiss on her cheek. 

She caught Lucy’s eye as Lexa answered some questions once more during an interview, and she held the glance, despite not wanting to herself. She felt Lexa’s hand on her hip, and she felt the necklace on her chest and still she held the glance because she had not seen her since, and she had dreamed and feared that moment in equal measure. 

Not another soul noticed at all, but to Clarke it was everything, so that thoughts and ideas and sounds stopped. She stared and felt her breathing hitch, but she never betrayed it. The actress across the carpet inhaled and nodded sheepishly before walking on to another meeting. 

“Remind me to never make a movie ever again,” Lexa sighed, oblivious to the interaction as they moved down the line. 

“I think you’re going to have it worse next time, Hawkgirl.” 

“Hey! I told you,” she lowered her voice after yelping. “I told you to be careful about my identity. Sheesh.”

“If you want to be her friend, you can,” Clarke offered. “I don’t mind.” 

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Lexa dismissed the idea quickly, waving slightly as fans yelled her name. 

“I mean it.” 

“I know you do,” she shrugged. “I don’t care though. My life hasn’t gotten worse without her in it. And I have you. I’m happy.” 

“I know what will make you happier,” Clarke whispered. 

“I bet you do,” she grinned.


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you sure about this?”

“No, but I think it’s a bit late for second guessing.”

The highway lazily curved and bent through the trees, half trailing the edge of ocean on one side. The water was calm and still, the Atlantic not particularly interested in waking from its summer nap despite how late into the evening it was getting. From time to time, a house would appear, interjecting itself into the woods, a long driveway seen snaking up and disappearing. It was entirely foreign and new to the actress, and so despite her girlfriend’s worry, she was excited.

Never before had Lexa considered the state of Connecticut. It was always just there; tiny and unassuming and well-enough alone in its little corner of the world, not bothering a soul. But just the peak at it as they drove toward Clarke’s hometown left Lexa very confused about the girl who sat beside her who, at one point in the not too distant past, lived on a street that house multiple pawn shops and liquor stores and what she was certain was an illicit neighbor. It was very far removed from the town they were driving through.

“I can’t believe you used to live here,” Lexa finally ventured.

“I can’t believe I’m taking you home,” Clarke returned with a wild kind of grin.

“It’s going to be fine, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

The way she said it made Lexa almost certain that the opposite was true, but she didn’t bother trying to change her mind. Instead, she kissed her hand and let the world bloom through the windshield.

Downtown was a blink. There was nothing to it except tiny shops and restaurants and benches and storefronts. People milled about, laughing and perusing. Kids with ice cream cones ran ahead. It was perfect.

“How long has it been since you’ve been home?” Lexa ventured as they made a few turns and left the bustling metropolis of the sleepy seaside town.

“What’s today?”

“August fifth.”

“Oh yeah, just, you know. About four years.”

“You said a little while.”

“That is a little while. A bit. Cosimically, I mean,” Clarke checked her mirror as she turned on her blinker. “I see my parents at least once a year, they come out and visit. I just haven’t been back here.”

“You’re just full of surprises.”

Sheepishly Clarke smiled.

The house on Maple Street was exactly what Lexa could never imagine growing up in. She remembered her little house she shared with her parents, a little box of a thing. Not that they wanted for much, just that they were much more modest.

As soon as the car slipped into park, Lexa tilted her head and looked at the old white home with navy blue shutters, with the moulding around the huge porch, with the flowers and the manicured lawn, with the glowing windows and screen door and lights. She remembered being fourteen and spending the weekend at a friends house and having that inadequate feeling. It was still very much alive in her.

“Are you ready?”

“I think I should be asking you that,” Clarke chuckled.

“Clarke, I am a highly desired actress who just was in a film that won the Palme D’Or. I play a damn superhero who wields a mace. I’m well travelled, somewhat educated, and at least to supplement my lack of degrees, I might dare say well-read. I am not afraid of meeting your parents.”

“None of that matters when you’re sleeping with their daughter.”

Lexa gulped.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she whined, deflating quite quickly from the pretend confidence she tried to instill within herself. Clarke chuckled and leaned over to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek.

“You are, by far, one of the best people I’ve ever met. They’re going to love you,” she promised.

“You are my favorite, and they already love you,” Lexa promised with a smile as she earned a kiss.

“You’re so cute when you’re naive.”

Somehow, Lexa realized, she was standing on the porch of a beautiful house, with a beautiful girl, and she was about to meet someone’s parents in the ‘I’m-dating-your-daughter’ kind of way. She knew, the entire drive up, that she would be doing this, the meeting, the shaking hands, the smiling and being polite. But it was suddenly very, very real.

For the briefest of instants, she absolutely hated her girlfriend. Right there, in the middle of Connecticut, she hated her for one blink in time. Because of those damn eyes and those hips and that voice, she agreed to spend the weekend there for her father’s birthday. If Clarke had been anyone else, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. But Clarke wasn’t, and that was why Lexa was madly in love with her.

“Finally!” a man burst through the screen door as soon as Clarke knocked. He wrapped her up in a huge kind of hug, eclipsing her entirely. “Honey, our long lost progeny has returned.”

Somewhere, muffled in his arms, Clarke mumbled a response, hugging him back just as tightly. Lexa stood to the side, carefully holding the presents and bags, glad to have something to do with her hands.

“How was that?” he finally laughed, pulling away.

“Plenty embarrassing, thank you,” Clarke laughed, catching her breath, still half hanging on her dad. “I want to introduce you to Lexa.”

“It’s a pleasure. I feel like I know you already,” he beamed, hugging her around her full arms. “Hawkgirl.”

“I told you to stop telling people about my secret identity,” Lexa admonished her girlfriend who weakly held up her hands in defeat.

It was going too well, it was going too smoothly, Lexa was too at ease, and Clarke was too far antsy to remember the impending weight that would try to tear her apart. For the longest, Jake grinned and held Lexa’s shoulder happily. And then the screen door shut.

“It only took how many years?” Abby said, holding out her arms. It took a moment, but Clarke hugged her back, relaxing into it as she was known to do.

“Hi, Mom. The guilt can wait a few, right?”

“A few,” she smiled and relaxed, sizing up her daughter, holding her cheeks and scanning her for defects. “You don’t eat enough.”

“I eat too much,” her daughter promised. “I want you to meet Lexa. She makes sure I’m fed and watered most days.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Griffin,” Lexa offered after a moment, extending her hand.

“Same to you.”

She wasn’t sure why, but Lexa found herself looking at her girlfriend for help, unsure of what or how or if that feeling was normal. Instead, she just got her father slapping her shoulder and helping to grab bags.

* * *

The evening set in and the heat from the summer kicked up with the bugs and the shouts from neighbor kids chasing the last bit of streetlight. Sticks slapped the ground as a makeshift game of some sort happened just beyond the tree line while the four found themselves relaxing in the heat on the porch, letting the dark envelope them with a kind of welcome that could only come from late summer evenings.

Since their arrival, Clarke had been on edge, and Lexa was able to pick up on it quickly. It was a fine line the artist was walking, to keep herself calm enough to put her girlfriend at ease while at the same time hosting her own internal gladiator match of emotions that came with being home after leaving and promising to never return.

But the actor knew it already, knew how complex home was for Clarke, admired her more for setting out on her own, refusing to adhere to her mother’s wishes. She just couldn’t fathom what it meant for her, sitting between two ridiculously strong-willed women while simultaneously trying to make a good impression and be supportive.

The porch swing croaked in a rhythm as Lexa lazily pushed them to catch the tiniest breeze while the lights from inside spilled out like ghosts onto the porch, casting them all in orangey hues and shadows.

Just a few hours in, dinner under their belts, and she hadn’t messed anything up yet. Her confidence was building as she carefully repeated Anya’s mantra that she was Lexa Fucking Woods, and she was any parent's’ dream. Almost instantly, Lexa had reminded her of the numerous cover stories and girls she’d blown through in her grief-stricken stupor. Anya had nothing for that.

“So I’ve never gotten the full how you met story,” Abby pressed as she took a seat on one of the padded chairs and handed her husband another beer. The screen door finally shut behind her with a gentle thwap.

“It was actually really sweet,” Clarke smiled at her girlfriend who blushed slightly.

It was foreign and wonderful, to see Lexa so worried. The girl could stand in front of a dozen photographers in a ridiculously beautiful dress and make up and have them eating out of the palm of her hand, have them adoring her while she whispered little jokes and basically didn’t notice she had that effect on people. And now she was sitting on a front porch, awkwardly sipping a drink she didn’t like, blushing at the idea of someone knowing her personally. Clarke enjoyed it more than she ought.

“I think you said it was at work, right?” Jake asked, relaxed in his corner.

“Lexa walked in and asked for some books on a painter, or painting.”

“It was a painting or the subject of a painting. It was confusing, but it turns out I picked the most knowledgeable person on the planet to ask,” Lexa supplied. “She knew exactly who I was, fumbled some books, and gave me a stack about three feet tall to read.”

“That almost degree wasn’t a complete waste then,” Abby almost scoffed. Dig number six, Lexa counted to herself.

“And that was around lunchtime,” Clarke ignored her mother, squeezing Lexa’s leg gently. “She holed up and I’d look over and see her every time I passed the aisle all day. For about eight hours. Until she disappeared and then came back about a half hour later with dinner. I closed up and we spent the night talking about art and work and all kinds of stuff.”

“Not a terrible first date,” Lexa grinned, teasing Clarke as best she could.

“That is actually a wholesome story I wasn’t expecting,” her father chuckled and took a longer swig from his bottle.

“It was nice. And no one else really knows the story. I think we keep it just ours,” Lexa realized. “I like that most.”

“That must be hard, being in the public eye the way you are,” the mother leaned forward slightly.

“It can be,” the actress shrugged. “Sometimes it’s funny. But if anything it kind of makes us talk more, be more open, trust. I think it’s going alright.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clarke pretended to be apathetic, though smiled and kissed Lexa’s cheek softly.

“Listen, I’ve held out as long as I could,” Jake shook his head, interrupting the sweet moment. “I have to know who the villain is going to be in the third one and if you’re going to join the Justice League. Also, if it’s true you’re going to be making an appearance in Birds of Prey.”

“I told you he’d love you,” the daughter whispered.

“You just had to tell him my secret identity.”

“Jake, please. Come on. You’re worse than a child,” Abby shook her head. “I’m sorry for him.”

“Not a problem,” Lexa chuckled. “Unfortunately I can’t tell you anything.”

“My daughter can.”

For a moment, Clarke caught her girlfriend’s eyes and debated it. She saw Lexa’s tell, and realized that they almost had their own language, developed and tested through many moments in which they were very public and wanted to be on the same page. Just a tilt of a head or drift of a glance said enough.

“Let’s just say that we’re going to spend the winter in San Francisco.”

“That’s where the Birds of Prey are meeting,” Jake explained with a wide grin on his face as he chuckled.

“I didn’t know you were acting now, Clarke,” Abby turned her head from the teenager she seemed to be married to, and back to her enigma of a daughter.

“I could never.”

“You do alright when you help me learn lines,” Lexa promised. “Potential for sure.”

“Never.”

“So you just go wherever Lexa goes?”

“Not exactly. I have the freedom to work wherever,” she shrugged.

“It’s not even that,” Lexa interjected. “You get to do that show with your friend Jeremey. He’s an artist out there, does a lot of experimental, street art type stuff. When I’m working, sometimes we can go a few days without seeing each other, even when we live together.”

“You live together?” Abby asked, shocked slightly.

“Oops.”

“We’ve been dating for two years. Of course we live together,” Clarke chuckled, soothing Lexa’s worry.

“Alright, so we know Lexa is going to be shooting parts of Birds of Prey. Tell me more about what you’re up to, kid,” Jake took Lexa’s lead, interjecting himself into the conversation to stave off the inevitable fight just a little longer.

“Tell him about the giant painting. The one that takes up the whole garage,” Lexa urged.

There was a peace there, for a moment. It was tenuous, but Lexa held onto it as hard as she held onto her girlfriend who grew excited and spoke with her hands while her father did the same thing. Quietly, Abby sipped her drink and pressed it against her neck, thinking.

* * *

The bedroom at the end of the hall on the left was a museum. Pale blue walls and white molding, big, airy windows, lace curtains that showed the backyard and the huge elm tree that stood beside the porch outside. The bed was made, the heavy white and blue duvet puffed and primed, the pillows sitting up as if they’d been curated. The light on the nightstand glowed against it all. In the daylight it would be a different sight, but for the night it was a treasure trove.

Lexa was taken most with the art on the walls. There weren’t bands or sport stars or even many personal photos tacked up anywhere. But the one wall was nearly covered in scraps, just like she remembered Clarke’s apartment being the first night she spent over there. The sketches were definitely not as good as what she did now, but there was still a certain style that remained consistent. Lexa was certain she could tell a straight line that was Clarke’s from anyone else’s in the world.

She let her eyes glance over the bookshelf, with its ponies and girlhood knicknacks. She traced the spines of a few well-loved books stacked there. On the dresser sat a few trophies and some jewelry. None of it individual amounted to much, but in the artifacts of Clarke’s life, they were all, as a total, monumental.

“It’s a good shower, isn’t it?” Clarke breezed in, shutting the door behind her. Lexa jumped at the newest arrival, as if her looking and tracing was a crime.

“I felt so much better,” she smiled. “I hate feeling like an airplane.”

“Find anything good enough to mock me yet?”

All too quickly, the towel around Clarke’s chest was dropped as she dug through the suitcase for clothes. It was enough to make Lexa forget which state she was even in at the moment. Though something about the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to the roof caught her attention.

“It’s just very… you. Normal. I would have been more surprised if it was pink and covered in boy bands. But this seems… very Clarke.”

All she earned was a snort when Clarke finally pulled out one of her own old shirts and put it over her head after sliding on underwear. The windows were open and the breeze was aided by fans blowing. The cool of the evening slipped in and tickled their legs.

“I’m exhausted,” the artist complained as she flopped onto her bed. “And did you hear my mom all evening? It’s going to be a long weekend.”

“She wasn’t terrible. I don’t think she likes me though. “

“To be expected.”

In a dramatic fall, Lexa landed beside her girlfriend as they sunk into her double bed, much closer than they were used to in Lexa’s huge one, or all of the kings they used on vacation across the world.

“I wonder if my stars will still glow,” Clarke breathed, settling her cheek on the actor’s shoulder.

“You know that what your mom says doesn’t matter, right? You have a great life, and I think we’re happy.”

“We are. I’m so damn happy with where my life is going,” she promised as Lexa fiddled with their hands, kissing her palm in that sappy way she liked to do. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Great. So no worrying for either of us. We’re just here to celebrate your dad’s birthday and then leave. No harm, no foul.”

Lazily, the curtains breathed in the night, gently wafting the fans into the room. Clarke turned more to her side, slid her leg over her girlfriend’s hip, slid her hand to her chest, pulled up a little on the old tank top she wore, teased the warm skin of her ribs.

Both laid there and listened to the crickets singing, to the far off noises of the trees dancing and swaying with little need other than the music of the summer night making them antsy. Lexa kissed Clarke’s forehead as the house creaked a bit, as a door shut somewhere, as voices were heard but not understood from the kitchen window.

“So, do you want to fulfill some of my teenage dreams and make out in my room while my parents are home or…?” Clarke finally whispered, earning a smile that grew wide on Lexa’s cheeks. She held her hands on those warm ribs and held her laugh there.

“Is there a list?”

“Oh boy, is there,” she promised, slipping her leg between her girlfriend’s as her hands moved around ribs and to skin on hips.

“That’s why you invited me.”

“Mostly.”

“You never made out with anyone in your room?” Lexa recalled, cocking her head slightly.

“Did you?”

“Me and Anya moved into a tiny apartment when she started going to school. I started working at sixteen, and before that I didn’t really… um. No. I didn’t get the chance,” she swallowed.

“Mom wouldn’t let me really have anyone in my room after I got caught making out with Katy Dietrich in the baseball dugout at the high school.”

“Wow.”

“If people came over, it was always downstairs only. And then we’d just make out on the couch or porch.”

“Oh, my.”

“We can do that tomorrow,” Clarke promised, yawning slightly. “For now you can settle for my bed.”

With a shake of her head, Lexa leaned and shut off the light. Carefully, they slipped under the blankets. By the time they met in the middle, both were so tired they didn’t even notice the green glow of the constellations that meticulously covered the ceiling. Instead, they lazily kissed and slid hands under what little clothes they wore and felt like the sneaky teenagers neither really got to be.

* * *

Before she could really fathom what was happening, the day was set. Before she even got her coffee, before she properly opened her eyes, the agenda was made and she didn’t have the wherewithal to fight back against it.

Grumpy and dazed and with hair like a rat’s nest, Clarke stood in the kitchen clutching her coffee cup with one hand and holding up Lexa’s old sweatpants on her hips with the other, scowling at the perky morning that existed.

“Let’s go, Clarke, we have a lot to get done today,” her mother tutted about, cleaning up the breakfast she missed and stacking her paper’s in a fine line and row.

“What? How?”

Around her, the house was already alive. Lexa helped pick up dishes, already showered and dressed and ready for her apparent day trip with Jake to the tennis court and club.

“We’re all leaving in about a half hour,” her father informed her. “You didn’t tell me Lexa played.”

“You know me, full of surprises,” she grinned as her father kissed her cheek. Lexa just blushed slightly at the sink.

While her mother and father buzzed with excitement, Clarke remained still, leaning there against the counter. She wanted about another hour of sleep and to finish that make out from the night before, but here she was, disappointed and decaffeinated.

“So what’s happening?” she asked her girlfriend.

“Your dad invited me to play tennis with him and a few people from the club,” she shrugged. “I think he wants to show off Hawkgirl. Just wait til he sees my forehand.”

“I do love your forehand,” Clarke grinned.

“While we’re playing, you’re going to go help your mom set up for the party.”

“How did I draw that straw?”

“You refused to get up when I told you it was time for breakfast.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed as Lexa scooted closer, trapping her against the cabinets. “My dad really does like you, and not because he’s a huge comic book nerd.”

“I really like him too,” Lexa promised, pressing her hips against the sleepy girls. “He reminds me of my dad a little. Which is… it’s kind of really nice, actually. They’re not exactly alike, but all dads have this kind of dad-ness to them.”

“Can’t I play tennis with you two?” Clarke whined leaning forward and hiding in neck, earning a chuckle.

“I heard you’re banned from the tennis courts.”

“That’s from something non related to tennis playing!” she complained.

“Go get ready,” Lexa rolled her eyes, impervious to the objections.

By the time they were pulling up to the country club that she absolutely loathed, Clarke was certain that it was a nightmare and she was still asleep. How else could she explain her girlfriend who she never saw play a sport, suddenly be a tennis star, swapping stats about some tournament with her father? How else could she explain how she managed to get dressed and somehow was transported to the ninth circle of hell that was the Elmhurst Country Club? How else could she explain the words her mother was saying the sounded like a to-do list?

The pinch she gave her own arm quite discreetly, didn’t wake her up though. This was real. This was happening.

“Have fun. I’ll see you for lunch,” Lexa smiled and kissed her cheek gently as she followed Jake. The giant man put his arm around her shoulder, guiding her toward the changing rooms and court.

Helplessly, Clarke watched them go, her voice failing her to call out for a savior. Instead, she got her mother calling her name in the opposite direction, and hung her head, resigned to her fate.

Somewhere between being directed this way and than, between making runs for the proper table glitter not once, but twice, Clarke gave up to the will of the world, stopped at the gas station a mile down the road and drank her slushie very slowly. By the time she got back with her single bag of table adornment, her mother was stuffing gift bags quietly.

“It took you an hour to go to the party store?” Abby shook her head.

“Traffic.”

“Why is your tongue blue?”

“I’m probably contagious. I should just go,” Clarke nodded eagerly.

“Help me with these please,” her mother pulled out a chair, and her daughter could feel the trap that was set, and yet she was helpless.

The goal of the trip was to never be separated from Lexa, and never be alone with her mother. Very simple. Very easy. And then she found herself in that situation, and she wished she hadn’t gotten a brain freeze and she wished she had gotten lost. Lexa could find another way to the airport.

Carefully, Clarke tied ribbons and slipped candy and little gifts into the bags, which still made no sense to her, but she didn’t fight. Her entire existence had always been a quiet rebellion against her mother, though she’d learned what was worth it.

It took all of five awkward and silent minutes for her mother to start the inevitable, to launch that cannon, to fire that shot heard round the world, so to speak.

“So you moved out of that apartment?”

“I did. I do miss my proximity to multiple pawn shops though,” Clarke sighed. She could practically feel her mother pace in her own head. “Lexa’s place is much nicer.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“I pay rent still. She doesn’t ask for it, but I can’t not contribute,” she explained. “Maybe you and dad can stay there the next time you’re in town.”

“How was your trip? You only sent a few emails,” Abby tried.

“It was amazing. Spain, Amsterdam, Turkey, India, Japan. We saw so much stuff and stayed at these amazing places. I’m excited to get back though,” Clarke realized. “I missed LA, our friends, a good schedule.”

“Sounds spectacular.”

For a moment, neither knew how to get to point B of the conversation. Clarke knew that the moment she agreed to come for her father’s fiftieth birthday, that she was in for a fight with her mother. That was just how it went.

The day she dropped out of med school, she knew that their relationship would never be the same. She kind of hoped that one day it would get better. But now, she just knew, deep down, that perhaps it was all done, that she would never have it.

It wasn’t a relationship that was particularly strong. Abby worked because it was easier than the teenage girl at home. She wasn’t particularly warm or touchy feely. She couldn’t handle anything after Clarke turned ten. Everything was foreign after that.

“If you don’t like Lexa will you just say in?”

The bag she was stuffing got tossed absently onto the table. Clarke didn't’ care much about it, and she couldn’t keep up much more of the quiet and the brooding and her mother’s terrible method of keeping things to herself. She just sat there judging and knowing and it was every reason Clarke never felt especially close to her.

“I like her plenty. I just met the girl.”

“You don’t like her. She’s an artist. She travels too much, pays for too much, has those pictures with other girls.” Abby scoffed. “I know you’ve googled her. I know you know about her. But in the time we’ve been together, she’s been… she goes against the fear she has and she’s been so wonderful. I love her.”

“She sounds like a wonderful girl.”

“Then what is it?”

“She’s fine.”

“Come on, Mom. Let’s just get this done so we can awkwardly avoid each other for the rest of the trip.”

That was it. That was the last moment that made Abby lose the veneer of cook she attempted to keep to herself. With a flourish, she slammed her hand down on the table and made her daughter jump. It took a second, but she took a deep breath and heaved a heavy sigh from the depths of her heart.

“I’ve never known you,” Abby shook her head. “I don’t get you. I never have and I am painfully aware of that. So I’m trying my best to figure it all out, to not spark a fight that makes you run away from home for years so that we only get life updates from you in the form of magazine articles and Instagram posts.”

Clarke winced at the idea of it all. She hurt her mother in the same ways her mother hurt her, she went into it ready to disconnect. It made her uncomfortable. She looked guilty enough at the new information.

“Lexa is holding you back,” Abby shook her head. “You were… you had dreams and you had things you wanted to accomplish. Now you run around, on her schedule.”

“That’s not true,” Clarke disagreed quickly.

“What are you striving for? I know I wanted you to do more than art,” she furrowed and clenched her jaw. “I just don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“You’ve… you’ve got it so wrong,” her daughter tried. “If I still wanted to work in the bookstore, Lexa wouldn’t care. I get to travel. I’ve worked with so many new people. I’ve painted more, I’ve put on a show. I got to make enough to support myself. Lexa has, without even meaning to, given me freedom. She… I fight her to let me pay for things, and she tells me to go do whatever I want. She’s done nothing but offer her full support for whatever I do, and I do the same for her. If that means I work from her trailer in Newfoundland for a few months, what do I care?”

“Because it’s supposed to be about you! There’s you to think about!”

“Mom, that’s stupid~ Why can’t we support each other in different ways?”

“I just don’t want you to get lost in… what you don’t want like m–”

“Like you?” Clarke finished. “Because you gave up so much because dad wanted a family. You’re not the head of some Swedish research neuro lab because Dad wanted a family and a house and the quiet life in the suburbs?”

“Yes.”

“Because you had me when you didn’t want me.”

“I don’t regret that.”

“But you didn’t want it.”

“Clarke, you’ve been the best thing I’ve ever done. That’s not it!”

“Me and Lexa aren’t you and Dad.”

It was a stalemate of sorts, with words that both wanted to say finally appearing and surprising themselves with probably the most honest conversation either ever remembered having with the other. THe gift bags were half finished, half spilled out on the table with their candy guts remaining unstuffed.

“Hey,” Lexa poked her head into the quiet room. “Are you guys ready for lunch?”

As tense as it was, Lexa smiled, sunshine and freshly showered from her morning on the courts. She gave Clarke a look for a moment, sizing it up and knowing something was happening, unsure if she should leave or stay or try something else. It was a small bit of language between them, imperceptible at best.

“We demolished Andy and Sharon,” Jake waltzed in a second later. “You should have seen it.”

“Finally. You’ve been itching to even the score,” Abby swallowed and smiled back at her husband.

“I can’t wait to tell you about it,” he extended his arm. “And for you to see Andy’s face.”

Lexa waited until they made it to the door to approach her girlfriend. It was cautious and gentle, but she knew how to navigate the waters of Clarke Griffin. Hyped up on her win and the feeling of having fatherly approval, she was untouchable, and wanted to share that. She always just wanted to share the good parts with Clarke.

“Hey, you okay?” she tried.

“I am, Champ,” Clarke nodded, winding her arms around her actor’s shoulders. She kissed her sweetly. “Did you have fun?”

“I did. I like your dad. He’s so much fun. And he only called me Hawkgirl four times.”

“Progress.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m starving.”

“Are you sure everything’s okay with–”

“I’m still madly in love with you.”

“Well thank goodness I didn’t ruin that without being near you.”

“Let’s go eat. Me and you have plans tonight.”

* * *

The beach was nearly empty. A bonfire existed about a half mile up from where they settled on the blanket. The waves murmured and hemmed and sighed and hummed to themselves while the sand just slumbered under it. Even though the summer heat remained, a blanket atop the town, it was the calm of the beach and the waves and the breeze that cooled the sand and made the evening have that chill, that famous summer cold.

“This is your favorite place?” Lexa asked, kissing Clarke’s neck and settling her chin on her shoulder.

“I love it here,” Clarke nodded. At night, I always just wanted to walk out there until I disappeared. There’s something calming about the idea of disappearing.”

“It’s a good spot,” she agreed. “How many did you bring out here to seduce?”

“Oh none. This was always just mine.”

“I’m honored.”

There wasn’t missing the tilt to her voice, and Lexa just wrapped her arms tighter around her girlfriend. If she could keep her there, if she could hold her well enough, then she would be alright. That was all she had, that was her logic.

“I heard what your mom said, before lunch today. I didn’t mean to, I just…”

“She doesn’t know us.”

Clarke ran her hand along Lexa’s forearms, made her hold her tighter.

“If I’ve ever made you feel like my career or my… life or wants or needs are more important than yours, I am so sor–”

“Are you kidding me?” Clarke scoffed. “You bend over backwards for me. That’s what we do. Nothing that she said was anything I’d ever thought.”

“I just want you to know–”

“Lexa, seriously. I didn’t want you to hear that. Because it’s not true.”

With a small smile, Lexa dug her nose into her girlfriend’s neck, kissed her hair, kissed every part she could reach, squeezed her legs around her.

“But still. If you ever… if there’s every anything. If you need anything from me…”

Decidedly, Clarke turned slightly, repositioning her hips. She shook her head and put her hand on Lexa’s cheek and neck, grabbed at the collar of her borrowed sweatshirt.

“Don’t let her get in your head. She’s not in mine.”

“Okay.”

“I really didn’t want you to hear that.”

“Me neither.”

“We’re good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm, very,” Clarke smiled and leaned forward to kiss her girlfriend.

She let Lexa pull her backward, she laid atop her, she was very happy.

* * *

The entirety of her father’s address book and contact list was in attendance. The ballroom filled, the bar and the patio overflowed with friends and family who hadn’t seen each other in ages. There was dancing and games and so much food and booze, it felt like Gatsby himself was behind the shindig. The summer night was alive with the frivolity of the event so that the country club on the hill was brimming brighter than the town by the bay.

“This is Lexa, my daughter’s girlfriend,” Jake shook hands with an old colleague. Lexa did the same. “Helped me beat Andy the other day in doubles. Wicked backhand.”

Well-versed in all manner of boring parties in which she did not know anyone, Lexa slipped into her role quite easily, quickly taking up as Jake’s sideshow piece to show off to friends. It didn’t bother her. If anything, it was nice to have someone brag about her for something so normal and not about her day job. All he wanted to do was make sure she would be back for the club doubles tournament, and he wanted everyone to know he was a contender this year with his secret weapon. Because more important than love and happiness, his daughter had selected a wonderful tennis player for a girlfriend, and he was proud.

“So what is it you do?” someone asked.

“Oh, I…” she furrowed at the thought, refreshed entirely at anonymity. “I fly. A lot. I just got my wings a few years ago.”

Beside her, Jake grinned into his whiskey.

“A pilot? What do you think of those mergers with–”

“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to say much as a member of the union,” she tried, politely excusing herself.

Far on the other side of the room, she caught that familiar shade of blonde and tried to figure out how she was going to get there.

“Why don’t you go find that daughter of mine? I’m sure Abby has pictures and such if I can find her.”

“It was so nice to meet you,” Lexa smiled warmly and shook that man’s hand before nodding to her girlfriend’s father.

It was hard to squeeze through, to find some kind of method of being polite and yet forceful. The entire day had felt like that though, carefully tiptoeing around the Cold War that raged between mother and daughter. Clarke said it was okay. Abby didn’t change a bit, and yet Lexa knew the words were festering in her girlfriend’s head. They had to be.

But Lexa didn’t push. It was much easier this way, and she knew nothing would come of it if she bothered Clarke. The artist was fickle in that she had to choose when she could say what she wanted and had been thinking.

“You look absolutely fantastic,” Lexa smiled wide as Clarke swayed closer to her through the crowd.

“You’ve already used that line on me tonight, Ms. Woods,” Clarke retorted, earning a kiss on her cheek and a hand on her hip.

“I still mean it.”

“It’s still working. Do you want to get out of here?”

“The party just started.”

“I think it’s expected of me, the resident bad seed, to pull something,” Clarke decided quite seriously. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

There wasn’t much choice in the matter. As soon as Clarke looked around and saw her mother nowhere in sight, she grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the back entrance. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she still had a working knowledge of the secret routes of the country club.

“Where are you dragging me? You’re going to get me banned and then I won’t be able to defend my doubles title with your dad,” Lexa complained, half-hearted and amused at the covert methods of her girlfriend.

Carefully, they snuck through halls and past familiar guests.

“Like they’re going to ban Lexa Woods from coming here,” she snorted as they snuck through the kitchen. “You’re the talk of the town. Literally. People are talking about you in town.”

“How could they not? I beat Andy and Sharon at doubles.”

She didn’t mean to, but Lexa bumped into Clarke as she paused right there on the sidewalk.

“Oh my goodness,” she exclaimed. “I’ve done it. I’m dating my father.”

“Very funny.”

With a kiss, Clarke smiled and tugged her once again as they veered off of the sidewalk and down into the grass. They moved behind the trees, they moved carefully through the dark. Behind them, the party continued, none the wiser, with bursts of laughter and levity emerging through the open windows.

“Is this on your list?” Lexa finally asked as a flag appeared on the green of what she thought must be the ninth hole.

“No, it was supposed to be the eleventh hole, but that’s farther away than I expected.”

In dramatic fashion, Clarke took a seat and tugged her girlfriend down with her. Beneath the edge of the rough, the hill dipped and the town glimmered in the distance, just behind the edge of the trees, with the water, calm and clear and flat beyond it.

“Thank you for coming with me to my dad’s birthday. I know it’s been… interesting.”

“Are you kidding?” Lexa smiled, watching Clarke look at the view. “It’s been really nice. They’re very nice, and it’s fun seeing a bit of you. I get it more.”

“Get it?”

“I don’t know. You always seemed to not come from anywhere, you distanced yourself from here so much,” she shrugged. “But I see little bits of it in you.”

“I left when I was eighteen, and haven’t looked back,” Clarke sighed. “I don’t miss it.”

“Have you thought about where you want home to be? I mean… permanently?”

It was the chill of the night, the dress, the grass. Clarke held onto Lexa’s arm and warmed up there. She kissed her bare shoulder and grinned at the familiar smell that didn’t disappear despite how far they travelled. She kissed the skin again with a smile.

“Honestly? I don’t much care. You’re not letting what my mom said worry you, are you?”

“A little.”

“I don’t need a house. I just need a fairway and a green and I’m a happy girl.”

With a final kiss on bare skin, Clarke smiled to herself and laid back in the grass. Lexa looked over her shoulder and watched the content grin on the artist’s face. In the moonlight and the grass and the summer night, she was more beautiful than Lexa could remember.

There was this memory, Lexa had, of the first time she saw that girl in the bookshop. All flustered and holding a huge stack of books. The nervous smile that disappeared after an instant just to reappear once she caught her breath. The determined crinkle in her brow as she wove through the tightly packed shelves. She was too distracting and Lexa knew no one could ever compare. Seeing her in an old shirt and with a little dirt from old books on her cheek, if that was enough to drive Lexa crazy, then all done up and in a birthday dress was enough to knock her down.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” Lexa mumbled.

“You like to tell me that.”

“I love you.”

It wasn’t said often. It wasn’t said to end a fight or frivolously. The words held weight for Lexa. She struggled to say them often, and then, others, her heart just bubbled up to her chest and through her throat and the words popped out despite themselves.

“Come here.”

The smile faded. Clarke cupped at Lexa’s neck and kissed her as she hovered atop her, sweet and innocent and saying all of the words she didn’t quite know how to say either.

“We should go back to the party.”

“You don’t mean that,” the artist hummed. Hands slid along her ribs. Her hands moved to hips and pulled closer. “Want to help me christen the golf course?”

“Do you mean? You can’t– We– You can’t be serious…” Lexa gulped.

There was a moment in which she debated, but Clarke already knew what she wanted, and she knew that two nights at her parents home where they didn’t have much chance to do anything meant Lexa had things she wanted to do as well.

“This could be like that time in Rome,” she murmured.

“That was a private balcony. This is a golf course.”

“Fine, we can go back to the party,” Clarke lamented, her hips moving against Lexa’s thigh, betraying her words.

“The things I do for you to finish off this list.”

With a sly grin, Lexa kissed her girlfriend once again.

* * *

There was still a stalemate between the mother and the daughter. All through breakfast, Lexa and Jake tried to keep busy and out of the way, keeping the conversation light, recapping the party and the events, planning their run as doubles partners in the spring. There was no thaw to come though.

“It was a pleasure having you here,” he grunted, heaving a bag into the rental car. “I mean it. You both are welcome anytime.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Too bad you can’t stay longer.”

“Yeah,” she smiled and shoved her own bag in as she snuck a glance at her girlfriend and her mother on the porch. She watched them hug, brief and without much to it.

“My wife doesn’t really know how to have all of this,” he explained. “Just… keep your chin up. You’re a good kid.”

“Thanks.”

“My daughter is very fond of you. I’m not going to do the whole talk thing. I think you’re just as fond of her.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the trunk. “You keep her happy, and I think we’ll both be okay.”

“And if I keep feeding you info about the next installment, right?”

“Something like that,” he nodded.

“I didn’t even have to bribe you with a trip to set or anything to gain your trust.”

“It can still be won.”

“Yes sir,” she chuckled.

“Just let me know about your schedule and we’ll make a trip out soon,” the father nodded as the other two approached. “Come here, kid.”

In a second, Clarke was wrapped up in a huge hug from her father while Lexa awkwardly stood near Abby. The goodbyes were heartfelt and a relief. And while she counted the visit as a success, Lexa wanted nothing more than to get back to normal, back to the real world, back to her life.

“You okay?” she asked as Clarke buckled.

“Let’s go home,” Clarke smiled, holding Lexa’s hand as they drove out of the driveway and back toward the airport.


End file.
